[Urban] Must be fucked to death (Complete) - 1-3

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-31

01

It was obvious she frequently engaged in anal sex.

Her anus was rather loose.

She was forced to forcefully spread her anus open. Her anus had just been violently penetrated.

Her anus was red, and a thick, whitish, brownish viscous fluid was slowly flowing out.

I licked her glistening anus, trying to tongue-rape it.

Unfortunately, my tongue wasn't long or hard enough.

She swayed her hips, shamelessly moaning, "Mmm...oh...ouch...ouch...mmm...uh..."

I smacked my lips against her anus, deliberately making smacking sounds.

She twisted, moaning even louder.

I inserted my right middle finger into her vagina.

Her vagina was hot, emitting a fishy smell.

I pressed against her G-spot and rubbed it forcefully.

She became wild, babbling incoherently: "Oh...uh...fuck me...fuck me..."

I rubbed her even more roughly, deliberately asking, "Fuck you where?"

Her hair was disheveled, her face flushed, and she replied, "Bitch...fuck my pussy."

I licked her pussy, rubbing her anus with my right middle finger.

She lay there naked, moaning, like giving birth, like having a high fever, like a pig, like a female dog, looking utterly obscene.

She stuck her right middle finger into her own anus.

"Hmm...oh! Ouch...I'm so dirty...look how filthy I am...fuck me, fuck me like a female dog. Hmm, come on..."

After she finished speaking, she pulled her finger out of her anus and looked at it carefully. There was some sticky fluid on her finger, glistening and slightly yellowish-brown.

She brought the finger to her mouth, stuck out her tongue, and slowly licked her dirty finger while looking at me.

I inserted my right middle finger back into her anus. I stared into her eyes and fucked her ass hard.

She looked at me while licking her own finger.

I pulled my finger out and smelled it. Slightly smelly. She looked at me.

I grabbed her hand, put my sticky finger to her mouth, and said, "Suck!"

She obediently sucked my finger. I used my finger to penetrate her mouth.

Her lips were beautiful. But now they were covered in lipstick and various sticky fluids from my penetration.

I pulled my finger out and put it down again.

I cruelly ravaged her cunt, which made gurgling sounds.

She groaned weakly, sounding like a sigh.

I put my finger back at the entrance of her anus, pushed it in slightly, and passed through the tightest part (the anal sphincter ring), where it was a little looser inside.

Her anus swallowed my finger.

My finger was penetrating her rectum again. Her intestines were soft, slippery, and warm inside.

I licked her swollen, red clitoris, penetrated her intestines, and watched her groan and writhe.

Women are like pipes, born to be inserted. Don't be too nice to them. She was just looking for a fuck.

She was in the heat, inserting two fingers into her wet, horny cunt, helping me fuck her.

She was fucking her own cunt with her fingers, making squelching sounds.

Her eyes were already glazed over. Her breathing was rapid.

I continued fucking her anus.

The high temperature made me sweat profusely.

She used the hand that was kneading her breasts to wipe the sweat from my forehead.

Through her thin, yet not-too-thick, mucous membrane, I could feel her own fingers inside her cunt.

I sucked on her clitoris again. She moaned, "Bite my clitoris...bite me to death..."

I bit her clitoris slightly harder, sucking as I bit.

"Fuck me! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she said faster and faster, "Bite! Bite! Bite! Bite! Bite~~ Ah^^^"

Suddenly, she groaned, her body arched back, stiffened on the bed, silent for ten seconds, her muscles spasming.

I felt the powerful contractions of her muscles as my fingers were buried in her anus.

She was almost crushing my fingers.

I pressed on, inserting my thumb into her vagina as well.

She trembled silently, suffering terribly, her mouth wide open, but no sound came out.

I knew she had reached orgasm.

By then, my penis was hard.

She awoke from her intense orgasmic daze, withdrew her fingers from her vagina, and touched my penis with her sticky hand.

I withdrew my fingers. They were sticky again. I roughly touched her face with that hand. I looked at her.

She opened her eyes, looked at me, and asked with longing but confusion, "Why aren't you coming in?"

I deliberately asked, "Into where?"

She had lost all shame by now and said, "Into my vagina."

I said, "You slut. I find you disgusting."

I got up.

She grabbed my hand, looked up at me, and asked, "You really don't want to... fuck me?"

She was panting. Her hand was slightly cool, soft, and a little sweaty.

I pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a deep drag, and blew the smoke into her face without saying a word.

She looked at me pleadingly and said, "Don't go, don't go... You said you liked fucking dirty cunts..."

I said expressionlessly, "I already fucked you."

She hugged me, kissing my face and my neck, "You made me feel so good just now..."

I said, "You're such a slut."

She said, "Mmm... I am..."

I said, "Slut."

She said, "Oh... I'm a slut. You called me that, and it got me so excited..."

She pulled my hand and brought it back between her legs. Her cunt was wet, sticky, and incredibly lewd.

My right hand reached down, turned the lit cigarette inside out, and inserted it into her wet cunt.

She moaned, twisted, and rubbed her clitoris.

She gasped, "Keep cursing me... I want to hear it..." As

I fucked her with the cigarette, I whispered in her ear, "Slut, I'm going to fuck your rotten cunt to death."

She said, "Oh... I like it..."

I said, "I'm going to fuck every hole in your body."

She said, "Oh... Can I stay?"

Here we go again! Every time she got particularly excited, she would ask me this question, just like when we first met.

I said, "Okay."

Like a little girl who had done something wrong, she asked, "How long can I stay?"

I said, "Until I get tired of you."

She kissed me.

I pulled half a cigarette out of her vagina and put the mouthpiece in her mouth.

She sucked on the sticky fluid from her own vagina on the mouthpiece.

I pulled the cigarette from her mouth and shoved the filter into one of her nostrils.

She looked at me, confused.

I shoved my right hand into her mouth and sucked on her tongue.

She gagged, her eyes filled with tears.

I pulled my hand out of her mouth and tore the cigarette out, throwing it on the floor.

I turned off the light.

She lay down on the bed beside me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, picked up a bottle of liquor from the bedside table, and drank alone in the night.

The thin curtains fluttered slightly in the night breeze. Moonlight cast dappled shadows of trees on the curtains.

I didn't want to think about anything. I didn't care to think about anything. I'd just live one day at a time, even if it meant dying.

She quickly fell asleep, her breathing even. I gazed at her pale, naked body in the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

My sheets were medium-thickness black linen, adorned with a few small gold and silver sequins that looked like twinkling stars.

I liked looking at these sheets at night. Looking at these sheets at night felt like sleeping in the universe.

I liked having sex with a woman with a snow-white body on these sheets. The stark contrast of black and white gave me a profound visual shock.

And there was a solemn sense of death. Every time I thought about being carried to the morgue sooner or later, I always wanted to live life to the fullest.

I sell cemetery plots. Don't underestimate me. I earn as much as some people. The key is

, I have it easy. How much money is enough in a lifetime? The alcohol is getting a bit to me. I turned my head and looked at the slut on the bed again.

I didn't fuck her much. Each time I licked her and masturbated her until she orgasmed.

It's not that I don't like fucking. It's just that I find it more pleasurable to fuck a woman with my hand. My hand can fuck her for two or three hours, but my penis can't.

My penis will ejaculate prematurely and become soft. My hand won't.

So I feel that fucking her with my hand and feet gives me a greater sense of domination and conquest.

Of course, it's also a kind of punishment. For all those things she did in the past.

02

In the early morning, I opened my eyes and saw the blue morning mist flowing in through the open window.

The mist was thick, like the clouds of Mount Tai, like the clouds of Mount Lu.

I rolled over, grabbed a cigarette from the bedside table, lit it, and took a deep drag, feeling intoxicated.

Another drag, and my body trembled slightly. Awesome! The first two puffs of a cigarette are the best.

My penis was erect. Premature erection. I was holding back a huge bladder of hot pee, probably seven or eight pounds (ha, at least three pounds).

I lay there smoking, deliberately avoiding the bathroom. I had my own plans.

I sat up, looking at the woman still asleep on the bed. Long hair, fair skin, older than average.

Did I love her? Not at all.

Why did I sleep with her?

Because I loved fucking her.

Why did she sleep with me?

Because she loved being fucked by me.

Because I made her orgasm repeatedly.

Because none of the men she'd met before could fuck her like I did.

I was like a demon, knowing her psychology perfectly. In short, I knew what she needed.

She was alright; we got along well, both of us were playful types, not particularly interested in money.

She has an inheritance, not much, enough for us to eat shredded pork with garlic sauce for seven or eight years.

Plus, I earn money too. We don't use cell phones or go online. When we're full, we just have sex.

I spread her buttocks and peeked inside. Her vagina was a little less swollen, but her anus was still loose.

I gently rubbed, rotated, teased, and flirted with my fingers on her vagina and anus

. Many times, I just wanted to play with her. To fuck her. Her pleasure didn't matter to me.

She woke up, touched my penis, and mumbled, "You're fucking me so early in the morning? How come you're so energetic?"

I continued to touch her vagina and anus, saying, "Of course! How many times did you come yesterday?"

She said apologetically, "It's all my fault, I was too tired yesterday, you ruined me, and I fell asleep..."

I said, "Bend over."

She said in a trembling voice, "Oh..."

Then she obediently got up, turned around, and bent over on the bed, showing me her big white buttocks.

I licked her anus and asked, "Do you know what I'm going to do?"

She said, "Um... I don't know... Daddy, what are you going to do?"

She would call me "Daddy" during some moments when we were making love. This always made me suspect that her father had sexually assaulted her when she was little.

As usual, I went along with her, saying, "You're a bad girl, you don't listen. Daddy's going to punish you!"

Actually, sexual fantasies are just a play. Everyone gets into character, plays along, and leaves.

If you try to detach yourself from the role, you'll naturally find it ridiculous. If you really get into the role, you'll be blinded by the lines and might even be unwilling to come out.

She said, "Oh, Daddy, don't spank me!"

I spanked her bottom hard while saying, "Daddy's going to give his disobedient daughter an enema!"

She said, "Oh...no...please don't..."

I said, "Don't move! Now Daddy's going to get a big, thick tube."

She said in a trembling voice, "Oh no...Daddy, don't give me an enema! I'm a slut, I'm a slut...fuck me...

fuck my cunt until it hurts. Fuck me...fuck me until it hurts..."

She stuck her right middle finger into her own anus, twisting her hips as she did so.

She said, "Fuck me...young man...fuck me...Daddy..."

I began to believe that women lose their intelligence when they really need it. They become idiots.

She was still twisting, still saying, "Daddy, punish me...but please don't be too harsh..."

I watched her fucking her own hips and calmly asked, "Tell me, what did you do wrong?"

She said, "Daddy, do I have to tell you?"

I was starting to lose patience. Women are really annoying, so nagging.

I said expressionlessly, "Yes, tell me the truth!"

She said, "Dad, your colleagues Uncle Zhang, Uncle Wang, Uncle Li, and Uncle Zhao all seduced me..."

I said, "Seduced? And then? You let them sleep with you?"

She said, "Yes..."

At this point, I didn't know if it was true or not. I just went along with it.

I put on a stern face, "You little slut! You even let your dad's colleagues sleep with you! Did you get paid?"

She said, "No... Uncle Qian gave me..."

I asked, "Hmm? What!"

She said, "A... necklace..."

I asked, "The one you said your classmate Hua Hua's mom gave you?"

At this point, her eyes were already blurry with tears. She nodded and said

, "Yes... Dad, I'm sorry..." I grabbed her hair and slapped her hard across the face, saying, "You slut! You little bitch..."

She was stunned by the slap, but quickly recovered and excitedly said, "Oh Dad, I'm a little bitch..."

"Beat me! I deserve punishment. Put your big cock in... punish me... fuck my ass... shoot in my ass..."

I was confused. What kind of slut was this???

My cock was already raging and erect. I spread her ass apart hard, and with the head of my cock facing her brown asshole, I shoved it into her rectum with a "plop."

She screamed, twisting her ass and thrusting back at me. I knew only an extremely horny cunt would do that.

Americans call it "fuck back" or "back." "Fire," perhaps translated into Chinese as "recoil-back fucking"?

I grabbed her buttocks and started fucking her wildly, my right hand reaching down to pinch her clitoris, my left hand reaching forward to grab her nipples.

She went crazy, twisting and turning, helping me penetrate deeper. She was aiding and abetting the evildoer.

I suddenly stopped, panting heavily.

She turned to look at me, her eyes filled with sorrow, her face dripping with sweat, her hair wet and clinging to her forehead.

I was trying to relax. But she didn't know what was happening.

My right hand was pinching her clitoris harder. My strength was almost enough to crush her little cunt.

My left hand squeezed her vulva harder. Her vulva was already severely deformed.

She groaned, "Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me..."

My urethral sphincter finally relaxed. That stream of hot urine poured into her intestines.

At first, she didn't react. She was still saying, "Fuck me... Daddy..."

Suddenly she realized what I was doing.

She straightened up, turned around, and looked at me in surprise.

Her eyes seemed to say, "I've seen hooligans, but I've never seen one as hooligans as you." I grabbed her

hair, forcefully pressed her head down, and shoved her face into the pillow. At the same time, I slapped her ass hard.

She whimpered, but didn't dare move.

I peed while slapping her repeatedly. The slaps echoed loudly.

As I slapped her, I recalled my first girlfriend who rejected me.

As I slapped her, I thought of my second girlfriend, who went out and slept with my best buddy!

As I slapped her, I thought of my female homeroom teacher in my senior year of high school, that stinking bitch who only knew how to call her parents!

I slapped out all my disgust and resentment towards women, slapping it into her ass.

She whimpered, her belly growing... The more

I peed, the more I continued to masturbate. Her buttocks were already red and shiny from being whipped.

After I finished, I grabbed a yellow apricot from the bedside table; it was the same size and color as a yellow ping-pong ball.

I pulled out my penis and shoved the apricot inside. Easy. It went in.

With one more thrust, I grabbed the remaining two apricots, one after the other, and they both went in!

She wailed, "Daddy, I can't take it anymore… I'm… I'm… I'm going to come out…"

I said fiercely, "If you dare spill a drop, I'll drag you to the front of the Xidan Bookstore and fuck you!" "

She groaned in despair.

I got up, put on my shorts and a t-shirt, and slammed the door shut.

03

I went downstairs to my usual tavern, ordered a small bottle of Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor) and a plate of peanuts in vinegar, and drank and ate them.

Soon, the liquor was gone, and there was still half a plate of peanuts left. I asked for a smaller one.

At this moment, my head was a complete mess. I couldn't understand anything.

An hour later, I got up, paid, and went home.

As soon as I entered the door, I smelled a strange odor.

I saw her lying naked in the bathtub in the bathroom, her eyes still sleepy.

She looked up at me when she heard me open the door. The bathtub next to her was full of her excrement, yellowish-brown, including the three apricots.

She said, "Don't hit me... I held it in for a long time... but I couldn't hold it in anymore..."

I pried open her mouth, picked up the three apricots, stuffed them into her mouth, forced her to eat them, and said, "Take a bath." She

turned on the water heater and obediently started taking a shower.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and watched football while drinking it.

04

I opened my eyes again and found her standing naked in front of me, while I was slumped over the table.

The football game was still going on on TV. I hadn't finished my coffee.

She said softly, "You fell asleep..."

I said, "Oh."

I got up and went to the bedroom.

She asked, "Aren't you going to shower?"

I said, "No... I... just want to... sleep..."

In bed, she hugged me, and I held her breast. Two naked bodies intertwined.

She said, "Sometimes, I want you to treat me harshly."

I said, "Why?"

She said, "I don't know."

I asked, "How does apricot taste?"

She said, "Don't ask..."

I said, "Tell me. I need to know."

She said, "You're so bad. You know my age..."

I said, "I know, old enough to be my older sister."

She said, "Hmm, but my heart is still that of a high school girl..."

I said, "Um..."

She said, "Why do you think that is?" "

I said, 'Anything is possible in this world.'

She said, 'Would you like another cup of coffee?'

I said, 'No, thank you. I just want to...sleep...'

I closed my eyes.

She nestled beside me, softly murmuring to me. I drifted off to sleep.

In my dream, I vaguely heard a woman speaking in my ear, the words incoherent.

The next morning I woke up with a splitting headache. She was still fast asleep.

I drank my coffee, trying to piece together what I'd heard the night before, only to find it was all fragmented and chaotic.

I tried and tried, and after summarizing, the gist was as follows: Her name was □□□, and she had a high school education. When she was nine, her mother eloped with a wealthy man, leaving her and her father to depend on each other. Her father never remarried and had no other women. Her father's name was □□□, and his profession was □□□. According to her, her father was quite handsome.

When she was fourteen, one night she woke up and found her father had climbed into her bed."窝。她爸爸给她讲述自己一个人操持家务的艰难，没有女人的男人的艰难，还有爸爸有多爱她。她当然爱爸爸。爸爸揉她肚子，慢慢地手就伸进她的裤衩。她紧张死了，同时又特别舒服，心跳很快，从来没有过的那种。

后来他们经常操屄，但她爸爸严重阳痿。二人从来不请亲朋好友去家里做客。后来她找了一个男朋友，她爸爸发现以后，打跑了那个“非法入侵者”，并狠狠揍了她，紧接着操了她。

她突然发现爸爸鸡巴剧硬，而且她自己也得到了空前猛烈的高潮。后来她爸爸还开了她的屁眼儿。二人在一起获得了无数高潮。她嫁了一个老师，后来离了婚。

Two years ago, her father passed away, leaving her an inheritance (considered compensation?).

My head is throbbing.

I put on shorts, shirtless, pushed open the door, walked out, and slammed the door shut.

At the convenience store downstairs, I bought a bottle of beer, took a few steps, and tilted my head back for a couple of gulps.

I hate sluts. I

despise whores .

But right now, right in front of me, in bed, is such a whore sleeping.

Is this a blessing or a curse for me?

They say blessings and curses are intertwined.

I happen to like older women.

My family is normal, and I don't know why I like older women.

But older women always arouse me, maybe because they're open-minded, because they're sexy.

I both hate and can't leave this bitch in front of me. What should I do?

Of course, I don't love her. I haven't used the word "love" in years.

And I don't plan to use it again. My heart is already dead.

I was walking aimlessly in the middle of the road, shirtless, carrying a bottle of liquor, my feet on the double yellow lines.

It was rush hour. Cars whizzed past, no one daring to honk.

I stopped, squinting at them.

The scorching sun beat down on me.

Before I knew it, the bottle was empty. I stood there, empty bottle in the middle of the road.

All the drivers went around me. Damn. They're usually so fierce, but when they see a real tough guy, they all go slouch.

On the sidewalk to my right, an older woman wearing a red armband spotted me, crossed the sea of cars, pulled me back onto the sidewalk, and began to coax me, saying, "How can you be so drunk so early in the morning at such a young age? Raising a boy like this isn't easy, is it? What if something happens to him? His parents would be so worried! Besides, it's an eyesore, isn't it?" The SARS outbreak had just passed, and the situation was great. Even the Russians were finally saying nice things about Beijing, and here you are, shirtless, carrying a bottle and standing in the middle of the road. If some troublesome old Russian were to shoot you, wouldn't that be terrible?

Actually, looking closely at this woman, she's not bad-looking. When she was younger, she wasn't exactly innocent either.

Her pretty lips were still moving; I don't remember what she said afterward.

At that moment, I thought to myself: the shape and thickness of her labia are just like lips.

Her pretty lips were still moving.

I suddenly thought: if things go well, this old cunt will definitely be wet. Has she gone through menopause? In

a

daze, I heard a tense female voice say, "Hey! The man is awake!"

I opened my eyes fully, sat up, and found myself slumped over a breakfast stall table.

Three meters away, several female servers wearing white hats and white aprons tilted their heads, looking at me and whispering.

I was the only customer in the shop.

I checked my phone; the screen showed it was 4:30 PM. Had

I slept that long? Who brought me here?

My head ached, and I was thirsty. I ordered two ice-cold beers, tilted my head back, and gulped them down. I tossed the empty bottles aside, left four yuan, and got up to leave the breakfast stall. It

was still muggy outside. Newspaper stands, repair shops, convenience stores, people walking, cycling, driving…

I wandered aimlessly. Normally, I have a low alcohol tolerance. But that only happens when something exciting happens.

Now my hands and feet were throbbing, and my horizon was all crooked. I don't know how long I wandered, but I arrived at a building.

I glanced at it; it looked familiar. It was my home. I

started climbing the stairs.

Thump, thump, thump. I looked up; second floor. Thump,

thump, thump. Third floor.

Thump, thump, thump. Fourth floor. I arrived. I took out my keys. Unlocked the door. I went inside. I heard a man and a woman panting. It sounded like they were sprinting side-by-side.

"Mmm! Mmm!"

"Oh...oh..."

I went straight into the kitchen, grabbed my large meat cleaver (half an inch thick on the back), and followed the sound to the dining room doorway. I leaned against the doorframe and peered inside.

The two were so engrossed in their lovemaking that they didn't even hear me come in.

The man, around thirty years old, was sweating profusely, and was having sex with her on the dining table.

There wasn't even a blanket on the table. He was a beast. She was pale

and disheveled, a strand of hair clinging to her eye with sweat. She didn't even realize it.

Her mouth was open, her eyes closed, and she clung tightly to the man, saying, "Oh, fuck me...mmm, fuck me..."

The man gripped her large penis tightly, fiercely thrusting into her wet cunt.

The dining room echoed with the sounds of slapping and squelching, like wild yaks trampling in the mud.

The man stopped, caught his breath, hoisted her legs onto his shoulders, sucked on her toes, and continued his frenzied thrusting.

Her face turned even redder, her screams intensified, her breaths quickened, and the intervals between them shortened.

The man licked between her toes as he thrust, his right hand also reaching down to probe her anus.

She screamed, struggled, her head swaying wildly from side to side, like a sow being slaughtered, a pitiful sight.

Soon, her body tensed, she held her breath, and stopped moving.

The man continued his frenzied shouting, his voice growing louder and louder, as if I had no neighbors.

I saw him convulsively thrusting his penis, his face turning purplish-red.

She tightly closed her eyes, like Jiang Jie encountering Dai Li.

The man's mouth gaped open, a string of saliva dripping onto her face and around her mouth.

She wiped it with her left hand, then casually wiped it on the edge of the table.

The man shuddered twice, then stopped moving, like a bank robber shot dead.

Two stray dogs panted, their penises still intertwined, inseparable.

Three or four minutes later, the man was pushed up, his penis slipping out.

She got up, spread her legs, and knelt on the floor beside the dining table, facing the man. Cloudy bodily fluids flowed from her vagina.

The man, drenched in sweat, got up, stood by the table, facing her, and forced his dirty penis into her mouth.

She gently moved her head, patiently washing the dirty penis with her mouth.

The man pressed her head down with his hand. Her long hair completely obscured her face.

A minute passed. Two minutes passed. The man sighed softly, his body relaxing.

Suddenly, she pushed the man away and coughed violently. Large amounts of yellow urine sprayed from her mouth and nose. The man continued urinating, grabbing her hair and spraying it wildly into her face.

She choked, unable to breathe, desperately trying to escape, but the man still gripped her hair tightly.

She was like a kitten being squeezed to death, meowing helplessly.

I stormed in, shirtless and wielding a large meat cleaver, shoved him aside with my shoulder, grabbed his manhood between his legs with my left hand, and raised the cleaver high in my right.

The man was completely dumbfounded. My woman was still kneeling on the floor beside the dining table, eyes wide open, frozen like a plastic doll.

I swung the knife down at his head with all my might. I'd never used so much force before. Unfortunately, I used too much force and missed, the steel knife embedding itself deeply in the dining table (thankfully I missed. If it had hit, I'd be eating cornbread for every meal).

I panicked, pulling it out twice, but couldn't get it out.

While I was pulling the knife out, the man grabbed his shorts and ran, abandoning his shoes.

I pulled out the knife, turned around, and the man had already flown out the door, slamming it shut behind him. The door hit the lock.

I swung the cleaver in the direction he ran. The knife spun wildly, smashing a large hole in the door. He was out.

I heard a muffled thud, followed by the crisp sound of the knife hitting the ground.

I chased after him and saw the knife lying on the concrete floor of the stairwell. The man was gone. I don't know where he'd hit.

Damn! Another bastard! I really like this woman, she's fighting me like this!

I chopped off a woman's head, leaving a room full of blood. The one who survived would be her man, wouldn't he?

I picked up the steel knife, went back inside, and closed the door. Right in the middle of the door, a hole over a foot long had been cleaved in the center; the jagged wood splinters were nothing to ward off evil spirits. It could even serve as a peephole. Who the hell would dare mess with me again?!

I went inside, and that slut was still kneeling there.

I sat down on the dining chair next to her, weighing the steel knife in my hand. I steadied myself and looked closely, realizing she wasn't trying to ingratiate herself with me in that Japanese posture. She simply couldn't get up.

Her own dark yellow urine was gushing down her thighs.

She was trembling, her lips were pale, and her eyes were vacant.

I put down the knife, bent down, picked up a pair of unfamiliar men's sandals from the floor beside the dining table, placed them on the table, and examined them. "Hmm, the shoe size is 42, no wonder that bastard is shorter than me."

She cautiously watched my every move.

I reached out and brushed her long hair aside. There was still semen, urine, and saliva on the corner of her mouth.

I nodded at her considerately. Was I telling her to get up? Or was I trying to say "you've had a hard time"? Who knows!

She didn't understand what I meant either, so she didn't dare to move.

I tenderly touched her delicate face, her skin, her flesh.

She said in a trembling voice, "He's an online friend of mine. They're getting a divorce soon..."

I swung my hand and slapped her hard. It wasn't enough, because her hair was too long and all over her face, slippery. It took away a lot of my strength.

I sat down at the dining table, opened a can of Coke, and looked her over while drinking.

I said, "Pull your hair back."

She obediently raised her hands and pulled her hair back, exposing her bare face.

No hair tie, no clips, just held up like that.

I touched her delicate face again. Her face and hair were covered in piss.

I strained my right hand and held it up in the air to my right.

I stared into her eyes. She looked at me pitifully.

She said, "Hit me... I remember being beaten every day when I was little, I'm used to it."

Suddenly, I felt powerless. Nothing felt powerful. Hitting her was pointless. Having sex with her was pointless. If

I had sex with her, I was playing the role of her father. If I hit her, I was still playing the role of her father.

I thought again, she's used to being beaten every day. What if she doesn't get beaten one day? Would she be uncomfortable?

Her orgasms are only most intense when they're associated with being beaten and abused.

So, if I hit her, it's still the same as having sex with her. There's a line

in Schindler's List when the Jewish boy faces execution for not cleaning the bathtub properly

, something to the effect of saying that when you can kill but don't, that's the highest form of control and domination.

I sat at the table and continued drinking my cola.

I tried to regulate my breathing, to appear indifferent. In other words, I was utterly cold-blooded.

She said, "Hit me... hit me to death... I'm so sorry!"

I said, "Why kill me? I still need to use you."

She said, "I'll never date anyone I met online again."

I said, "It's okay. Go ahead and meet. It's your right to choose who you meet or not."

She said, "I'll never again."

I said, "Why are you trying to please me like this? You're independent, you're an adult, and so am I."

She said, "No... you're angry. I know. I was wrong..."

I went to the kitchen and found a rolling pin. Then I went into the bathroom and grabbed a tub of shampoo.

When I returned to the dining room, she was still kneeling there.

I said, "Bend over."

She bent over, on all fours, her buttocks raised.

I lubricated the rolling pin with shampoo, then pried open her vagina. It was full of other people's semen.

She said, "Daddy, punish me. I'm a bad girl... I deserve a beating..."

I stuffed the rolling pin into her vagina and thrust into her uterus again and again.

She twisted her waist and moaned. I slapped her buttocks and said, "Don't move!"

She dared not move her waist, but she couldn't help moaning.

My left hand pressed down hard on her buttocks, my left thumb digging into her anus.

She groaned, enduring it. It was wet inside.

I pulled the rolling pin out of her vagina and stuffed it into her anus.

I pushed it in. Pushed. Encountered resistance.

I said, "Relax."

She relaxed a little. I continued pushing. The rolling pin was halfway in, but I couldn't go any further.

Her intestines were winding. I used the rolling pin to fuck her ass.

She said, "Please take it out...please..."

I raised my knee and hit her ass. She swayed and fell silent.

When I pulled the rolling pin out, her anus didn't close immediately, her red anus exposed.

She said, "Daddy, love me...take care of me...oh...Daddy, don't hurt me..."

I gripped the rolling pin, looking at her pitiful appearance, my penis suddenly hardened.

I touched her face and asked, "How long have you known each other?"

She said, "We met online a month ago. Today is the first time we've met in person."

I put my thumb in her mouth. She started sucking, like she was sucking on a penis.

As she sucked, she pulled down my shorts, revealing my penis.

I stood beside the dining table, holding a rolling pin, while she knelt on the floor. I fucked her mouth.

"Mmm...hmm...uh...uh..." She sucked diligently, careful not to let her teeth touch my penis.

Her long hair covered her face again.

I ran my hand through her wet hair, pressing against her skull. She occasionally licked my swollen testicles.

"Uh...I'm sorry. Fuck me...fuck my mouth..."

Her fingers anxiously touched her vagina.

From her panting, I knew she was close to orgasm.

I lightly tapped her arm with the rolling pin. She shuddered. She tensed. She stopped moving.

I pulled out my penis. She panted.

I pinched her face. She sighed.

I dragged her to the corner, pressed her head against the wall, and made her bend over towards me with

her ass sticking out. Her anus had just closed. I pried open her anus and thrust in hard.

I fucked her rectum, feeling the lubrication and heat inside. I felt her anus gripping me tightly, reluctant to let go.

She moaned, "Oh...uh...ouch! Ouch...oh...fuck me...shoot me..."

I gripped her buttocks and fucked her hard, enjoying her fuck-back. I pulled my penis out and shoved it into her sticky cunt.

Her cunt hadn't been washed yet, and there was another man's semen still on it.

I said, "Fuck you to death, you slut!"

She hunched her head, being brutally raped by me against the wall.

We were both panting heavily. Sweat dripped from my chin onto her back. Her sweat dripped to the ground.

I inserted my fingers into her anus while continuing to fuck her hard.

She reached orgasm again, her cunt muscles contracting violently. She moaned lewdly, begging me to ejaculate inside her.

My blood boiled, and I gasped for breath, thinking of my damn high school homeroom teacher and math formulas.

I pulled out my penis and made her stand up. I found a nylon rope, lifted her hands, bent them back, and tied them together in an "M" shape, with a piece of rope still attached. I tied her hands to her neck.

I stepped back, admiring my masterpiece. She stood there pitifully, her hair disheveled, her buttocks high and firm.

I dragged her to the dressing mirror in the bedroom, made her face the mirror, and began to ravage her buttocks from behind.

She closed her eyes and moaned, seemingly enjoying it.

I said, "Open your eyes, look."

She opened her eyes and looked at her ravaged reflection in the mirror.

I touched her bare armpits, which were covered in sweat. I touched her tightly bound arms.

The rope was very tight, digging deep into her arm flesh.

I spread her buttocks and thrust my hot penis into her anus.

I inserted it into her anus for a while, then into her vagina for a while, and finally ejaculated inside her vagina. Hot semen surged into her uterus.

I pulled out my penis and tied her to the bathroom radiator pipe. She didn't dare speak.

I went back to the bedroom, got into bed, and went to sleep.

06

I woke up, opened my eyes, and it was pitch black all around.

I stood up and looked out the window. The night sky outside was dark, with hardly any stars.

Remembering she was still tied up in the bathroom, I took a flashlight from under my pillow, turned it on, and went to the bathroom.

Her arms were raised, still tied to the bathroom radiator pipe. I shone the flashlight on her face. She was still sleepy.

I went over and pinched her face, asking, "How's your anus? Feeling better?"

She said, "It itches."

I turned and went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, took out a block of ice and a cucumber from the freezer, closed the refrigerator door, went back to the bathroom, turned on the light, and spread her buttocks. She obediently helped me relax her anus.

I stuffed the block of ice into her anus. She groaned and writhed, as if she had diarrhea and couldn't hold it in any longer.

I rinsed the cucumber, smeared some mentholatum on it, and shoved it into her anus, fucking her hard.

The cucumber, pressing against the ice, stimulated the depths of her large intestine. The cucumber thorns rubbed against her anus. Bound

, she groaned wildly, howling, repeatedly shouting, "No...no...no..." It

was still pitch black outside. I fucked her cruelly, without stopping.

She cried out, "I won't...Daddy, have mercy...I 'll never do it again..." I grabbed a wad of her worn stockings from the towel rack next to me and stuffed it into her mouth. She screamed, "Wa ... She cried, "Waaaaaaah!" I said I wanted to film her being gang-raped. She cried, "Waaaaaah!" I turned off the bathroom light, put on shorts, shirtless, and opened the front door. I went out. Bang! I slammed the door shut. That night , I wandered into a bar and drank eight bottles of beer. On my way home, I noticed the lights were flickering, and the road seemed to tilt before my eyes. Everything was blurry. I went inside, and she was still tied to the bathroom radiator pipe. The stockings in her mouth were spit out on the floor. There was a piece of cucumber on the floor. I didn't know which half. I untied her, peed a lot on her, turned on the cold tap, and sprayed her with cold water. She gasped for breath, shivering, sighing, enduring it. I lay down on the bed and quickly fell asleep. In my dream, I was running on a beach. Later, I ran along a winding canal, crossing an iron bridge spanning the river. A huge whale was showing its dorsal fin in the river, dark and shiny. The swimmers nearby screamed and tried to run away. Later, I ran in a park. It seemed to be Zizhuyuan Park. I ran with great difficulty, my legs moving in slow motion... When I woke up, it was already bright daylight. She was wearing a black sundress, sitting on the small rug by the bed, looking at me. Seeing that I was awake, she leaned over and kissed me. I hugged her and touched her breasts through the thin sundress. As usual, she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts were soft, large, heavy, and textured. I said, "Take the cucumber out." She said, "The front ones fell out. The back ones... can't get out..." I stared into her eyes, squeezing and kneading her large breasts. She closed her eyes, parted her lips, and sighed. I said, "Take it off!" She took off her sundress, revealing her large white breasts, her nipples erect. I said, "Feel it yourself!" She started kneading her large breasts. Her nipples became even more swollen. I asked, "How does it feel?" She said, "It's itchy inside...it's so itchy..." I commanded her, "Take off your panties!" She obediently took off her black silk panties, revealing her vulva. Her vulva was the most beautiful I had ever fucked. No matter when I looked, I could vaguely see the dewdrops of desire glistening deep within the petals. I said, "Lie down on the carpet and touch yourself." She lay down on the carpet beside the bed, spread her legs for me, and began to touch herself with her hands. I told her to lift her feet and put them on the bed. She did as I said. I touched her pale feet. Her feet were also very beautiful. I said, "I feel like I don't understand you at all." She was already immersed in the pleasure of touching her vulva and began to pant. I said, "Has anyone ever told you that your feet look like classical sculptures?" She said ecstatically, "Only you know how to appreciate me." Watching her touch herself, I was very excited. At certain moments, she was like a goddess resurrected.

I watched her long middle finger trace the path along her glistening vulva.

I felt the excitement in my chest transforming me into a wild beast.

A kind of animalistic gene began to leak from the back of my head.

My neck slowly swelled, like a sheep turning into a wolf.

She lay there, touching her vulva, looking at me, and softly said, "Make love with me."

I continued kissing her soft, beautiful feet, looking down at her masturbating.

She pulled her legs together, curled them up, pressed her elbows against the backs of her knees, exposing her pink anus to me.

Her slender fingers gently, teasingly touched her own anus.

She breathed hot air and said, "Want to make love to my anus?"

I was dazed. Lost in thought. Intoxicated. Stunned. Drowsy.

I got off the bed, climbed on top of her, 69, licking her flawless buttocks, licking her clean anus.

She touched her clitoris herself. I inserted my finger into her anus. Two seconds later, she shuddered and came.

I checked my watch: 10:26 am.

After she fully regained consciousness, I checked again: 10:36 am. She weakly said, "Daddy, I'm dead...you're so bad...you killed me..."

I grabbed her and threw her onto the bed. She bounced a few times on the mattress.

She looked at me blankly, like a lamb dancing with a wolf, now sober.

I pounced on the bed, pinning her down and roughly touching her vulva. It was covered in sticky fluid.

She was like a large, soft-bodied creature, constantly secreting.

My strong, thick fingers played with her vulva. She writhed, letting out soft sighs.

Suddenly, a wicked thought popped into my head.

My fingers moved to between her vulva and clitoris, the opening of a woman's urethra.

I pressed. I rubbed. She groaned wildly.

I wasn't pinning down a woman, but a female dog.

The female dog struggled, as if trying to stand up.

I carefully examined the texture of her urethra, finding it unexpectedly soft, like a lump of paste, like a persimmon, with a tiny "tongue" inside.

Before I knew it, my finger was being sucked into her wet, warm opening.

She said, "Oh...put it in me...play with my 'little tuft' (a homophone for 'urinate')."

I said, "I'm inserting it."

I increased the pressure.

She trembled, saying, "Oh, play with me...uh...Daddy, you're ruining me..."

I said, "Daddy's going to use his big cock to fuck your 'little tuft' today."

She said, "Oh...no...please...don't..."

I thrust harder. My finger was fully inserted. It was very hot inside, contracting like a baby's mouth, greedily sucking.

I began to thrust repeatedly, fingering her urethra.

She turned her head to kiss me, frantically searching for my mouth. She kissed my eyes, my ears.

I inserted my middle and ring fingers into her vagina, and my little finger into her anus.

She went mad. Her lips were noticeably hot, burning. Her mouth was blocked, and she was breathing heavily through her nostrils.

I got up and shoved my swollen cock into her anus, sodomizing her while simultaneously fucking her urethra and cunt. *

Gurgle gurgle.* *Gurgle gurgle.* *Huff huff huff.* *Gurgle gurgle.* *Huff huff huff.* *Gurgle gurgle…*

Her face was flushed and purple, and she was covered in sweat. If she went out now, she'd definitely be detained and have her temperature checked.

I said fiercely, "What are you doing?"

She replied, "Huff…huff…I…am being fucked…huff…"

I pressed, "What are you?"

She replied, "I…slut…slut…oh…"

I fucked her fiercely. Fuck her! She screamed, reaching orgasm.

To me, the sound was like the siren of an ambulance that I'd been hearing every day for the past few days.

She trembled, utterly exhausted.

I abruptly pulled away from her, got out of bed, went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out the large Danish sausage I'd bought a few days ago.

Back in the bedroom, she was still convulsing. Her orgasmic response was stronger than most women's.

I lifted her thighs, pressed them down, and thrust the two-foot-long, one-and-a-half-inch-wide, ice-cold sausage into her burning hot vagina.

She trembled, let out a groan, and surprisingly, actively raised her buttocks to meet the sausage's thrusts.

While I was vigorously thrusting into her vagina, I inserted my fingers into her urethra.

I pounded her uterus hard with the large sausage. It went in a full foot, and I thrust over a hundred times.

She moaned, saying, "Oh...don't stop...don't stop...fuck me...I'm almost there again, oh oh ah ah..."

She indeed reached orgasm again.

I didn't give her a moment to catch her breath.

I flipped her over, made her lie face down on the bed, straddled her back with one leg, and continued thrusting the large sausage into her. At the same time, I lifted one of her legs and licked her bare feet.

She cried out,

"

Oh

... kill me ... ugh ...

ahh

... 06-01 The author's note on the above original work : 1. The most prominent feature of this work is : "fuck to death." I hadn't used "fuck to death" yet. 2. The overall structure and conception are closer to a practice piece than a large-scale work. I have higher hopes for this current work, "The Slut Must Be Fucked to Death." The work on the coast was probably written two years ago. I think so. I can't remember exactly. My current self-requirements for my erotic writing are roughly as follows: 00. Refine the words. Sharp narration. Refined language. Polish the text; the words should be short, concise, powerful, intense, and spicy, striving to complete each line within its limit. 01. Create suspense; the plot should be unusual, dangerous, and thrilling. Creating a dramatic plot within a limited space is true skill. Cherishing the reader's time is respecting the reader. 02. Do not mention character names, ages, or the city where the story takes place throughout the work. 03. Describe something shocking and moving. Eliminate unnecessary descriptions. Reject subtlety. Reject sentimentality. Reject gentleness.

04. Use clean, visually neat spacing between lines to prevent eye strain.

05. Depict actions, but don't dwell on the underlying motives (everything has a cause, but I'm thoroughly tired of psychological analysis).

06. Emphasize action descriptions and explore vivid verbs. Readers' lives are already boring enough; who wants to read about a mundane, monotonous life?!

07. Avoid typos. While a few typos can enhance originality, they are still unpleasant and hinder reading.

08. For me, erotic literature is more than just erotic literature. My writing always subtly contains something else. What exactly? Figure it out yourself.

09. Character dialogue must be concise.

10. Narrative style is simple and grand.

11. I dislike labels. Don't label or categorize me. I don't belong to any faction. I create my own A8 faction.

Some friends may find certain parts too grotesque.

01: Winter Rooftop Teasing

Key Hints: Humiliation, Fingering, Anal Exploration.

If you like it, please continue reading.

If you can't accept it, exit immediately!

No one is forcing you to read.

I'm warning you!

Episode 1 Begins:

The sun is blindingly bright.

I pulled her up to the rooftop.

We locked the iron gate; no one could come up.

This was a randomly chosen building.

My actions were highly random.

This was a survival instinct honed over many years.

The more random, the safer.

This building is 18 stories high. There are no taller buildings nearby, only a few 12-story residential buildings.

Her hair was soft, fine, with large, permed curls at the ends, dyed blonde.

A thin necklace adorned her delicate neck. It looked like a cheap ten-yuan necklace; if properly made, two would cost fifteen yuan.

I wore a black knitted mask and Stereolithland hiking sunglasses.

She sized me up, her voice slightly tense, and gave me a flattering smile, asking, "Are you a policeman?"

I shook my head.

"So you're... a secret agent? A security guard? The lads from our village who come to the city to be security guards are so cool..."

I grabbed her neck, pressed my thumb against her throat, and with a little force, said, "Take it off! Take it all off!"

She trembled as she started unbuttoning her clothes, her eyes growing even more tense: "...We agreed it was just a game..."

I pulled a steel baton from my trouser leg, and with a single swing, it tripled in length, clutching it in my hand.

She saw it and sped up unbuttoning.

I knew that realism would enhance the game's effect.

It was November; it wasn't that you couldn't reach your hands, but it was already quite cold.

She lifted her thin yellow down jacket, and I yanked open her belt, tucking her legs behind her feet, and with a push, she sat on my lap.

I pulled her pants down halfway, revealing her crotch. Slightly sparse, black, curly hair. White buttocks.

My hand slipped inside her shirt, playing with her warm, pear-shaped breasts. My hand was cold. She shivered, but didn't say anything. She wasn't wearing a bra.

I inserted a finger into her wet, hot vagina, probing it.

My finger didn't go very deep before I felt something soft pressing against it. Cervix? No way? Her vagina is so short?

OB? No, there's no rope. I probed again. I felt it again. I understood. It was a membrane.

She looked at me nervously, motionless.

I asked, "How old are you?"

She replied, "..." [Actual age omitted here. No need to cause trouble.] "I didn't ask your age. Tell the truth!"

"I..."

I wondered, "You've never had sex before?"

She said, "No... I haven't..."

I said, "Then why did you say your vagina was itchy yesterday?"

She confessed pitifully, "It really was itchy..."

I was confused. Judging from her appearance, she must be in her early twenties.

Even if poor kids look older, her actual age couldn't be that young.

And she was quite promiscuous. From her speech to her walk, she exuded a lewd aura.

I changed my plan on the spot, pulled my finger out of her vagina, and said to her, "Touch yourself!"

She began to touch her own pubic hair, rubbing her vulva in humiliation.

I lifted her legs, which were "bound" together by her pants, exposing her anus, and said, "Do it from behind!"

Her middle finger slid in and out of her anus, in and out, in and out, teasingly.

I knelt down and licked her pubic hair with my tongue. She shuddered violently, grunted, and asked, "...Can...can you do this?"

I ignored her and continued licking fiercely, my tongue circling and teasing the clitoris, sucking on the hard clitoris, licking the fleshy vulva, and pressing against the opening. She smeared my face with her fluids.

She moaned incoherently, pulling my hand back to her pubic hair, further down, further down.

I inserted my finger again, carefully. I'm not a gentleman, but I insisted that this membrane was a serious matter and needed to be handled with utmost care. Her

hot vulva gripped my finger tightly. I used my years of honed "G-spot technique" to patiently probe her G-spot with my fingers.

Her G-spot was very obvious and easy to find, probably because she was already quite aroused. Her vaginal G-spot was slightly raised, with some tiny bumps on the surface (about the size of goosebumps).

I massaged her G-spot, gradually increasing the pressure.

She breathed heavily and asked, "Where are you touching me?"

I asked as I touched her, "Your pussy. How does it feel?"

She said, "It's heavenly!..."

Her vaginal fluids flowed to the outside of her vulva, her clitoris, labia, and clitoral hood were all wet and slippery, making squelching sounds as my fingers penetrated her.

"Mmm...uh...oh...you're making me feel so good...oh...do me...do me...oh..." She arched her back, like a live fish being pulled ashore.

I withdrew my fingers and saw that they were covered in a thick layer of glistening fluid, shimmering in the dazzling sunlight.

I smelled my fingers, which were coated with her vaginal fluid.

She looked at me, her eyes waiting for my judgment. I said, "So slutty. Your cunt juice is so slutty."

Without another word, I shoved my wet finger into her mouth. She tried to pull away. I held her head down and forced it in.

My finger entered her wet mouth, touched her warm tongue, and even felt the little bayberries (taste buds) on her tongue.

Her soft tongue began to suck on my finger.

She slowly pulled her finger out of her anus, covered in some brownish-red feces, and began to violently ravage the sticky hole in front of her anus.

She moaned shamelessly, her face flushed.

A faint, fresh, fishy stench filled the air.

I took my finger out of her mouth, hugged her, and humiliated her in a low, comforting tone: "You look so dirty. So filthy. So cheap."

Hearing this, her finger moved faster and harder, rapidly manipulating her sticky clitoris and labia.

She shook her head like a patient in a fever clinic, her lips slightly parted, groans escaping her throat: "Mmm...uh...I'm so cheap...ah...I'm almost there..."

My right hand reached under her bare buttocks, rubbing her anus.

Her anus was wet, with three or four small lumps of swollen flesh around the opening.

Nine out of ten women suffer from hemorrhoids, especially those from the lower classes who don't have the means to wash their bottoms after defecating.

At this moment, her anus was particularly loose, and with a slight push, I entered without much effort. It was very hot inside, and there seemed to be some mucus.

I aided and abetted her, pushing and pulling, penetrating her rectum, saying, "You stinking cunt, you slutty hole. I'll fuck this stinking asshole to death in a bit."

We could both hear the squelching sound of our busy fingers. She groaned desperately, "Oh...oh...my stinking cunt is coming...coming—"

Suddenly, her mouth opened wide, but no sound came out of her throat, her expression one of extreme pain, like Jiang Jie being tortured to the limit, like a female soldier shot.

Dry, lifeless brushstrokes are called "flying white," and broken strokes with unbroken meaning are called "broken strokes but connected meaning." The loudest sound, inaudible beyond decibels, is called "treating white as black" in traditional Chinese painting.

This rotten cunt has been fucked until it produces "flying white."

Her whole body stiffens. Her thighs tremble, shaking violently.

Her fingers finally can't grip her cunt anymore, hanging limply beside her bare buttocks.

Her whole body relaxes, as if suddenly paralyzed.

A large gush of viscous fluid slowly flows from her concave cunt, slippery. This is the sacred spring of this little slut.

This fluid is milky white, with a consistency (if 10 is the highest) of at least 7, thicker than Yili yogurt, but not as thick as Mengniu yogurt taken from the refrigerator.

(Brothers and sisters of the Yili Dairy Group, don't hate me! It's said that Mengniu is thick because of too many additives! Sigh!!)

She gasps for air in a dying frenzy (gasping = trying to recover oxygen intake from a near-death state).

My face is pressed against hers, and I can feel her little face burning hot.

I pulled my finger out of her anus, some yellowish-brown fluid and specks of dark brown fecal matter clinging to it.

I put my dirty finger under her nose, then shoved it between her loose lips, pressing it against her tongue.

She didn't react. The French word for orgasm, petite mort, means a blissful death, its context no less evocative than the Chinese phrase "dying of pleasure."

I whispered in her ear: "I'm leaving first. You can come downstairs later. "

She opened her eyes with great effort, still slightly drunk, looking at me, the bright sunlight slanting across her pupils. Her eyes looked clear and transparent…

She said to me, word by word: "Take me with you. I'll go with you."

I was stunned, my mind racing with all sorts of possibilities and solutions.

She got up, hugged my waist, buried her face in my crotch, and deeply inhaled the scent of my pants.

I pulled her up, hugged her, and squeezed her bare buttocks hard, grabbing her soft flesh.

Her face was still hot, pressed against my neck. She kissed my neck and chin, saying, "You're a good person. I know. You definitely want to be good to me."

I coldly replied, "Are you kidding? We don't even know each other. Who's in your family?"

She calmly and clearly said, "I have no family. I'll come with you. Don't look down on me."

I helped her pull up her pants, fasten her belt, and button them.

She said, "My mother left, and she's not coming back. She's been gone for six years."

I cupped her face, looked at her, and asked, "Where did she go?"

She said very calmly, "My mother committed suicide. My father ran away from home, without a word, for five years. So I left my hometown and came here."

I looked at her, trying my best to observe her. Her breathing rhythm and pupils showed no abnormal changes. She might be telling the truth.

I had to calm her down first. Over the years, I had cultivated a good habit of remaining calm and composed in the face of adversity.

I said, "Let me think about it. My family is short of someone to do chores..."

She immediately said, "Great! Just cooking and fetching water is fine, and I can stay in the corner of the bed."

We climbed down from the rooftop, took the elevator down to the first floor, pushed open the door, and returned to the bustling crowd.

I asked, "What grade did you finish in school?"

She replied, "Junior high."

I asked, "What can you do?"

She replied, "I can cook, do laundry, and take care of people. I'm not married, I have no education, and no money. I... am... quite hungry right now..."

I said, "Come on, there's a nice restaurant up ahead. Let's eat and chat."

We seemed to be chatting casually, but my eyes kept glancing around through my sunglasses.

After a while, there was no unusual activity.

02: The Bitch's Howl of Torture

Key hints for this episode: forced urination, defecating, foot fetish, virginity loss, orgasm.

If you like it, please continue reading.

If you can't accept it, exit immediately!

No one is forcing you to read.

I'm warning you!

The second episode begins

with me taking her to a restaurant for a simple meal. I'm not short of money, but I like to be frugal, so I pretended to be poor.

The restaurant was filled with all sorts of people, and it was a bit noisy. Chinese people always shout when they eat, making it a chaotic and smoky place, like a train station.

But there were no security cameras in this kind of place, so it was safe and relaxing. We ate and drank like ordinary friends. We didn't talk about anything deeper.

The bill came to thirty.

I reached into my pocket, took out three ten-yuan bills, deliberately crumpled them up a few times to make myself look messy, and handed them to the waiter.

After leaving the restaurant, I stood in the cold wind and asked, "Where are you staying now?"

She: "◇◇◇" [Place name omitted] I said, "Come on, take me there now."

I put on sunglasses, hailed a taxi, and arrived at ◇◇◇, a row of low-rise houses.

After turning around and around, we entered her rented room. There was no lock on the door.

The room was piled with bananas. A single bed. There were no signs of anyone else living there. Actually, I mainly wanted to see if she was genuine.

I said, "Grab your clothes and let's go."

She smiled and said, "I just paid the rent. Only paid for 10 days..." Her expression was relaxed and cheerful, her eyes full of hope, like a person who had been abused and was about to be discharged from the hospital, or a female prisoner about to be released from prison.

I said, "If you want to come with me, hurry up. I'll wait for you at the intersection. I'll leave in two minutes."

She nodded and quickly packed her clothes.

I left the bungalow, turned around, went back to where I got off the car, hailed a taxi, got in, and told the driver not to turn off the engine and to wait for someone.

I didn't want to be seen. I wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

One minute and fifty seconds later, she came out, ran towards the taxi, and picked up a bag.

These few steps completely changed her life.

The taxi drove to the downtown area, I stopped it, pulled her out of the car, and let the taxi go.

She looked at me blankly. The streets were bustling.

I took her into a 7-Eleven, went straight through, didn't buy anything, and went out through the back door.

It was an alley. I knew this place too well; I was a regular here. I pulled her into number 118, which was a large, crowded courtyard.

She looked around excitedly and whispered, "You live here?"

I ignored her and led her through courtyard number 118, out the back door, into another alley parallel to the one we'd just walked in.

After a few steps, she asked, puzzled, "Walking again? I need to relieve myself."

I said two words: "Hold it in."

A taxi pulled up empty. I gestured for it to stop.

Once in the car, I told the driver, "Go to 826 first, then 272, turn south at 198, then take 496 Street, to 909 residential area." [Place names omitted] The driver hesitated for a moment, then obediently started driving. The

taxi weaved through the city traffic, following my prescribed route.

She looked up at the skyscrapers outside the window.

The shadows of the buildings and the fragmented sunlight stung her face.

She began to fidget restlessly. I could tell she was desperately trying to hold it in, attempting to squeeze her bladder.

The driver and I chatted. I pretended to be asleep.

A desperate wolf doesn't chat idly with anyone. He drove, I paid, that was all. I never said a word more.

Finally, we entered the residential area, got out of the car, and went into the building.

When we arrived at my house,

she looked around as soon as she entered, her bladder already hard as a rock. At this point, she squeezed her thighs together and shuffled her feet.

She put down her bag and the first thing she asked was, "Where's the outhouse?"

I calmly replied, "I don't have one here."

She was startled: "Oh? Then you...?"

I said, "I used to have one, but I tore it down; the house is bigger now."

She became truly anxious, almost frantic with grief and anger, her face flushed red, and she stomped her feet.

She asked, "So you don't relieve yourself at home?"

I said, "I do. I water the flowers." While teasing her, I hugged her from behind, kissed her earlobe, and rubbed her stomach.

She jerked back, broke free, and exclaimed, "Stop! It's almost out..."

I unbuckled her belt, took off her strappy cloth shoes, pulled down her socks, and then ripped off her outer pants, long underwear, and underwear all at once.

She stood naked in front of me, her vulva clenched inwards, almost crying.

I took a rectangular stainless steel shallow plate (the kind used for braised pork hock in grocery stores), placed it on the table, and said, "Go up, squat here to relieve yourself."

She obediently stepped onto the table and squatted down.

I placed the long, shallow plate under her buttocks and then looked at her. Everything was ready, except for the relaxation.

She squatted on my table like that, bare-bottomed, legs spread apart, her clothes still on.

I cruelly stared at her bare feet. I must say, they were quite pretty.

Her feet were softly shaped, her toes were quite clean, and her semi-transparent toenails were like clean seashells.

For a girl of this social class, having feet like that was a blessing from heaven. Many girls and young women in the city had incredibly ugly feet.

She was holding it in tightly, her face flushed, groaning, looking down at the plate, then up at me, unable to relieve herself for a long time.

I whistled and hissed. It still didn't work.

I took out my penis, stood on tiptoe, held it horizontally, and aimed it at her vulva, trying to loosen the urethra.

A gush of hot urine shot out, splashing onto her clitoris and labia.

The urine slid down her buttocks with a clattering sound, like pearls falling onto a jade plate.

The familiar scent of urine rose up, mingled with the aroma of coffee and rice.

Her lower abdomen swelled, her face flushed, and she gasped for breath.

I reached out and touched her soft vulva, gently kneading her labia, while simultaneously leaning down to kiss her cheeks and ears.

Her breathing became noticeably heavier. I comforted her ,

saying, "Sweetie, relax, sweetie, it's okay. What's the big deal? A living person can't be killed by holding their pee!" Before I could finish speaking, I felt a heat in my palm, and a thin stream of urine shot into my hand like a cold gun, powerful and scalding hot. After a moment's pause, it burst forth! "Whoosh whoo ... In the quiet room , only the endless " whoosh who ... The stool trailed along, stopping and starting, savoring the scenery along the way. Finally, the large stool was expelled and settled in the dish. She let out a long sigh, and then a torrent of urine gushed out again, with tremendous force. The thick, fat stool lay in the large dish, a full 20 centimeters long, thick at the head and thin at the tail, like a large, slightly curved carrot. The second one followed immediately, thinner but longer, twisting its body like a brown snake emerging, covered in a little translucent mucus. Upon closer inspection, there were still undigested yellow corn kernels. After the brown snake emerged, it also settled in the large dish, coiling itself atop the large carrot. I admired her creations, my eyes glued to them. The warm breath from her body filled my nostrils, becoming even stronger. She felt comfortable and had completely emptied her bowels, perhaps feeling there was nothing more to expel. She said to me, "Paper." I said, "What for?" She said, "To wipe." I said, "Wipe what?" I reached under her buttocks, touched her anus, wiped it a couple of times, and took it out to look. My fingers were clean, with only a little bit of brownish mucus. I held my finger up to my nose and inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma. So fragrant! I couldn't resist putting my brownish-yellow finger in my mouth and licking it. It tasted bitter. She said, "Why are you like this?" I said, "I don't wipe male or female dogs. Get in bed!" She got off the table. I unbuttoned her shirt. She looked at me, limp from head to toe, letting me do as I pleased. I looked at the large tray and said to her, "You've collected quite a bit, about seven or eight pounds." She sighed deeply, "I was so suffocated! When you were playing with someone's back on the rooftop earlier..." I said, "Keep them all for me from now on, don't waste them. You hear me?" Her face flushed, and she said, "Hmm. You're such a pervert. But I like it." I showed her the Japanese-style squat toilet I'd set up in the corner.

After I knocked down the bathroom wall, I built three steps against the corner, with a white porcelain squat toilet recessed on the countertop. The water pipes were still in their original positions.

She laughed and said, "You're so naughty! I was thinking you'd squat on the table to do *that* too."

"What?"

she whispered in my ear, "Take a dump."

Hearing a girl I'd just met say "take a dump" made my heart skip a beat, a direct jolt to my soul.

I took off her coat.

She said, "Wait until I put the plates away." She reached for the square plate.

I stopped her, "No rush. Yours isn't dirty."

She looked at me, thought for a moment, and, realizing the situation even more clearly, said, "You know what? It's so comfortable being with you."

I took off her sweater and asked with a smile, "Why?"

She said, "Because I can completely relax and completely let loose."

From then on, a certain fertile scent lingered in every corner of the room.

Because we knocked down the walls of the bathroom and kitchen, and because I like a simple life, the furniture and utensils are minimal. The 70-square-meter apartment, just the two of us, looks unusually spacious.

The heating hasn't been turned on yet. It was a bit chilly in the room.

She asked, "Where are you taking a shower?"

I pointed to the 1.5-meter square white porcelain bathtub next to the squat toilet: "There, just pull the shower curtain."

She asked, "Is the water hot now?"

I said, "Of course, I'll heat it up anytime."

She said, "Okay, then I'll go take a shower first."

I hugged her and whispered in her ear, "Wait until you're done. We need to conserve water."

She smiled, a little embarrassed.

I wanted to be a primal animal. I wanted to be a beast. I deeply inhaled her rich fragrance.

I stripped off her top, threw it aside, and asked, "You never wear a bra?"

She said, "No. Those things are too tight, I can't breathe."

I pushed her onto the bed, covered her with a blanket, and then, while taking off my own clothes, asked, "Then if you go to the hospital, the doctor with the stethoscope is doomed."

She was puzzled: "Why are you doomed?"

I said, "You'll swell up to death."

She grinned silently, looking at me, her eyes blinking.

I stripped naked and said to her, "Look, this is me."

She lifted the blanket and said, "Get in bed! It's cold!"

I crawled under the covers backwards (head to feet), lifted one of her legs, and smelled her fleshy feet, the soles, and between her toes. Salty. Fragrant. Stinky.

She was a little embarrassed and whispered, "Don't... it smells..."

I said, "I like it smelly!"

After saying that, I smelled her feet even more affectionately.

Actually, fragrance and stench are relative and can be interchangeable.

I think her bare feet smell fragrant, and I think her anus smells fragrant, and stinky, and stinky, respectively.

If you insist on asking how much fragrance or stinky, it's hard to say. People smell different every day.

I think her bare feet smell 8 and stinky 7 today, her anus smells 9 and fragrant 6, tomorrow her bare feet smell 6 and stinky 8, and her anus smells 9 and fragrant 10. Besides, our standards of judgment are different. You might think her feet smell 3 and stinky 9, and her anus smells 5 and fragrant 4. You have your judgment, and I have my standards. Don't be too picky.

I started licking her toes.

I licked and sucked her bare toes.

I said, "Do it yourself."

She said, "No, I'm embarrassed... Why do you always make me do it myself?"

I said, "I love seeing you do it yourself."

She kissed my neck and chest in despair, licking my nipples. I rubbed her wet pussy. Her soft little hands gently teased my anus and the area below my testicles.

My cock got hard.

She climbed down and carefully examined my naked, hard cock. The thick, fleshy vein throbbed.

She touched my thick vein for a while, then whispered to me, "Give it to me..."

Her voice was very low, as if there were other people in the room.

I teased her, "What did you say? Say it louder."

She still whispered, "I want it inside... I really want it... Fuck me... Fuck my pussy..."

If she said this in a clear, articulate voice like Xing Zhibin from CCTV News, it would be a downer.

She licked my cock wet. My big cock stood straight up, covered in her sticky saliva.

She moaned softly, rubbing my glans against her clitoris. Our usually tender genitals were now hard and swollen.

I said, "I'm going in."

She asked knowingly, "In my sight?"

She was using another way to describe my actions, to stimulate herself.

A new channel opened. The old ship slowly entered. My large penis entered her hot vagina, pressing against the soft membrane.

The room was silent.

Her little cunt was already dripping wet from my playing, but it was as tight as a child's fist; she wanted to loosen it, but there was a hand outside the fist, holding it firmly.

I moved in and out slowly.

Her lips were pale with tension, and her forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat.

I was careful, walking on thin ice, never increasing my force.

Suddenly she laughed, touched my face, and said, "Big male dog, harder. Fuck me through before you fly."

I said, "I don't have any medicine here, little bitch."

She stopped laughing and said, "A bitch isn't made of paper. Come on."

She then gritted her teeth, resigned to her fate, like Jiang Jie.

That's right, bitches are born to be fucked.

The duel begins in the central arena. I rouse myself and increase my strength fiercely. Gradually, most of the tortoise can smoothly go in and out.

"Sister Jiang"...

Thinking of the little bitch's encouragement—"Big male dog, go harder. Fuck me through before you fly. Bitches aren't made of paper," I harden my heart.

No more hypocritical gentleman! Gentleman's impotence! The big tortoise is furious, burying itself all the way in.

"Sister Jiang" screams, her screams containing pleasure, release, and despair.

The big tortoise succeeds in one move, pressing forward step by step.

The bitch completely embraces the big tortoise, looking at me with compassion, letting the big tortoise run rampant below.

The bitch grins and howls pitifully. I suddenly understand the origin of the nunnery of compassion.

Seeing "Sister Jiang" being tortured, my head goes numb.

Endure a little longer. Endure a little longer. Count. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, September 18th, Shenyang, Tokyo, Germany, ninety-seven…

“Sister Jiang” was still chanting lewdly: “Fuck my rotten cunt to pieces!”

I responded wildly, “A rogue wants to fuck a slut to death. I’ll fuck you to death!”

“Sister Jiang” trembled upon hearing this, fell silent, her body hardened, her temperature soared, her face hardened, and her features became slightly distorted.

My penis felt a strong spasm in her cunt. I knew “Sister Jiang” had reached orgasm.

“Sister Jiang” regained her senses, raised her arms to the pillow, revealing her sweaty, pale armpits, and said: “You fucked the bitch to death. Come on!”

Ninety-six, ninety-five, grassland, sunlight, geometry exam, ninety-four, ninety-three…

I supported her upper body with my thumbs, pressing them against her nipples, and began a high-frequency, frenzied pelvic thrusting motion three times per second.

Her breasts bounced wildly up and down, her nipples becoming even more erect under the friction of my thumbs.

"Sister Jiang's" eyes became hazy, filled with a thick mist, her lips parted, revealing her teeth, and I could even see her gums.

"Sister Jiang" was stunned again.

She moaned erratically, her voice becoming a slutty groan.

Ninety-two, ninety-one...

I licked her face, like a male dog.

She found this even more lewd, glanced at the male dog, closed her eyes, and resigned herself to her fate, letting the thug do as he pleased.

The thug spat in her face and cursed, "Slut! In heat... slutty dog..."

I could hardly utter a complete sentence.

She became even more agitated, her teeth clenched together, every nerve in her brain focused on receiving signals from below.

She was concentrating intently on her third climax.

I pinned her hands behind her neck, my left hand roughly gripping her wrists.

She raised her white arm behind her elbow, obscuring her forearm, looking utterly masochistic.

I felt like I was seeing Joan of Arc holding out until the very end. (Don't try to nitpick the history with me!)

I found it quite arousing to

see a woman like that. She gasped, "Are you trying to kill me?" (A double entendre. 1. My hand hurts; 2. Why haven't you ejaculated yet?)

Yes, I'm going to be the beast!

The moral shackles loosened, and the stud immediately started shooting wildly.

Hot lava, a full three pounds of semen. The feeling. An illusion.

Only after I recovered from the "little death" did I realize that my "child's fist" had loosened slightly. She was opened up a bit, and her penis was limp.

She shrank back. Semen mixed with blood gushed out, a complete mess. I sat on the side, catching my breath.

I deflowered her. I didn't feel the sense of accomplishment of a penis conquering a lamb.

If I were a woman, who would I want to deflower me?

If I had a daughter in the future, how would I teach her to protect herself?

She reached her right hand to her vulva, scooped up a handful of fluid, looked at it, then put it in her mouth, sucked it clean, and swallowed it. I reached down again to scoop up some more sticky broth, then looked.

Looking at the whitish semen and blood on my hands, she was still weeping, her face streaked with tears, snot flowing like a river, swallowed along with the semen and blood.

Her sobs were filled with panic and remorse. Like a schoolchild caught lying by a teacher, like a newlywed being publicly stripped and humiliated.

Her sobs lessened, and she began to suck on my limp penis, licking away the remaining fluids, then swallowing.

What kind of ritual was this? A tonic? A memorial service?

An old tradition passed down among the women in the village?

I had no idea.

In any case, her hymen had been torn.

Crying was useless, licking was pointless.

A thousand-year-old tradition had been trampled. The curse began to take effect.

But until the very end, she showed no remorse. Life is a gamble, really. No matter which step you take, it's wrong!

I lay down and held her naked body. Her body was slightly cool, covered in a layer of sweat, like someone who had their teeth pulled without anesthesia.

She held me. I was soaking wet, like a noodle after being boiled.

My ex-wife never sweated when she was fucked, and afterwards she never hugged me or even touched me.

She once said, "Who wants to hug someone who's just finished and is covered in sweat!"

Afterwards, she didn't even talk about her feelings; she just wiped herself off, turned over, and went to sleep.

At this moment, the little slut "Sister Jiang" was hugging me, touching my armpits with affection. Her facial muscles were relaxed, her expression was casual and kind, and her cheeks were starting to turn red again.

She kissed me and said, "Everyone says a woman's first time hurts."

I asked, "Actually?"

She said, "I felt so good just now... I flew... It felt much better than doing it myself..."

Her eyelids were already drooping, but she was still trying to keep muttering, "The bitch is dead... You really know how to play..."

I was very sleepy, and I stroked her hair, wanting to answer but finding it hard to open my mouth.

I was a stranded squid, a semi-transparent jellyfish, a big puddle of mud, even my teeth were soft. The fucking was too rough.

I felt like I had already fallen asleep.

Suddenly she perked up, reached out and touched my limp penis, saying, "You're so bad. This slut's hooked up with you!"

I jolted awake, opened my eyes, and saw a foul, gleaming light in her big eyes. The kind of light

only found in Iberian lynxes in the Spanish forests.

She asked me, "Can I take a shower now?"

I said, "Well, you can now. Come here, I'll teach you how to turn on the hot water."

03: Disgraceful

Text Collection Key Hints: Incestuous Memories, Role-Playing, Forced Masturbation, Anal Games, Hot Urine Enema. If

you like it, keep reading.

If it's not to your liking, you can go back immediately.

No one is forcing you to read.

I'm warning you!

The main text of the third episode begins :

I stood on the balcony, lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, the pleasure filling my lungs, and combined with the cold, gave me a shiver. The first puff of cigarette is the best.

It was almost noon, like dusk had fallen, and I couldn't see the horizon. Looking around, all I could see was a heavy twilight, and the distant woods and concrete jungle were all a dirty grayish-purple.

She came out onto the balcony, took the cigarette I was smoking, took a drag, and looked at the scenery with me.

She crossed her arms and said, "It's so gloomy."

I said, "Yeah, probably holding back snow."

We shared a cigarette like that, taking turns puffing.

When I took it and tried to smoke again, I noticed her saliva on the filter. (I've been smoking for twenty years, and my used filters are always dry.)

I definitely wouldn't smoke this cigarette if it were anyone else; I'd feel disgusted. But I didn't find her disgusting. Looks like disgust is relative, haha.

I said, "Come on, let's go out and have some fun."

She said, "Okay! Let's go!"

We put on our coats and went outside.

It was cold and gloomy outside. The light was dim, eerie like in the movie "The Day After Tomorrow," as if a major ice age was approaching. Some shops had their lights on.

She asked me, "Where are you taking me?"

I said, "I don't know. Who cares! We'll just go wherever we end up!"

As we walked, I looked up and saw a large, square building—the district library.

I pulled her up the steps and we went inside.

The young security guard glanced at us and asked, "Who are you looking for?"

I replied smoothly and calmly, "Your director. He asked me to do something for his child. You're new here, right?"

He didn't say anything more.

It was warm and extremely quiet inside. We went straight upstairs, wandering aimlessly through each floor.

There were many reading rooms, all with signs and numbers. Every room was brightly lit, and there were quite a few readers, but everyone was moving quietly and speaking in hushed tones.

I often come here: first floor periodicals, second floor reading rooms, third floor screening rooms, fourth floor offices, fifth floor equipment rooms.

The hallways were completely empty.

She was excited, knowing she was about to do something fun and mischievous.

We tiptoed up to the fifth floor, turning east and west, until we arrived at the electrical room.

I gently pushed open the door to the electrical control room. No one was inside; it was a dense mass of pipes, dashboards, wires, and junction boxes. Various indicator lights flashed intermittently.

The management was chaotic and lax! Those who should be held accountable weren't, and those who shouldn't be were being meddlesome!

I observed for a while, figured out the situation, pulled the main switch to cut off the power, and snapped the fuse.

The entire library building was plunged into darkness.

I pulled her out of the electrical control room and into a storage room in the northwest corner, closing the door behind us.

The storage room was cluttered with a large pile of cardboard boxes, probably full of books.

There was a large set of radiators under the window. I held her close to one of the radiators.

Soon, footsteps and voices echoed from each floor.

Two people came to the fifth floor; judging from the sounds, they were heading straight for the electrical control room.

We both held our breath. I put my index finger to my lips, signaling her to be quiet. The unique thrill of doing something wrong made her tremble slightly.

The two men fiddled around for a while without success, then easily gave up and went downstairs.

We both breathed a sigh of relief, tiptoed, and peered through the glass window downstairs. People were scurrying out of the library.

It grew even darker outside.

We listened intently to the sounds outside. Gradually, the noise from each floor subsided. The entire library grew quieter and quieter.

I pulled her into a low cardboard box near the radiator, my legs spread behind hers, holding her close, inhaling the scent of her hair, and slipping my hand inside her pants.

She turned and kissed me.

Our lips met, merging together.

We sat there, embracing, kissing occasionally, chatting leisurely.

I asked, "Why did your mother commit suicide?"

She said, "My father always argued with her. They were always arguing. My mother tended to sulk. Then, after that argument, she committed suicide."

I asked, "How did she commit suicide?"

She put her hand on her neck, her thumb pressed against her cheek, her tongue sticking out, and said, "The next morning when I got up, I saw my mother like this, hanging from the rafters. The rafters were right next to the kang

(heated brick bed)." Driven by my wild instincts and years of living on the edge of life, I was skeptical of everything she said. I listened for fun.

I calmly continued, "Tell me about your father."

She said, "My father was quite handsome. When he was young, he was the most handsome man in our village, and many women chased after him. My father was a teacher in the village..."

I said, "Did he sleep with you?"

She asked knowingly, "Slept with what?"

I said, "Well, you know."

She said, "Hmm... do you want to hear the truth or...?"

I sighed, already half-guessing her.

I hugged her and asked, "Did it start after your mother passed away?"

She said, "Yes, that's right, my mother passed away... about six months later..."

I said, "Tell me about the first time. What did he do to you?"

She said, "The first time... was in spring, at night, when there was no wind."

I said, "Hmm, at night, when there was no wind."

Simple, casual conversation could reveal more information.

She said, "There's only one kang (heated brick bed) in my house."

I said, "Yeah, one kang."

She said, "In the middle of the night, I was sleeping, and when I woke up, he was in bed with me, touching my body, touching my upper body. He was quite excited, breathing heavily."

I said, "How did you feel?"

She said, "I was really scared, um... but it also felt pretty good. He said my mom had left and wasn't coming back. Then his hand went down and into my underwear, touching my lower body."

I said, "How did you feel at that moment?"

She said, "I was trembling all over... I was nervous because it was a bad thing. But it was also very exciting... very comfortable... then I think I came... my lower body was wet..."

I said, "How old were you then?"

She said, "Eleven years old, just started menstruating."

I said, "What else did he do to you?"

She said, "Nothing ." "Other. Really. Just touching."

I said, "You touch him every night before bed?"

She said, "Yeah, pretty much, he's let me touch him too. The first time I touched him, I was shocked by how big he was. But not as big as yours."

I kissed her and asked, "Has he ejaculated?"

She said, "Um. I mainly use my hand to put it on him."

I said, "Does he drink?"

She said, "Yes! He drinks really well. Nobody in our village can outdrink him."

I said, "Where does he ejaculate?"

She said, "In my hand, in my mouth, on my stomach. He hasn't penetrated me, saying I'll have to get married someday. He always says he's sorry to me, and after a while, I feel sorry for him."

I asked, "He's pitiful? Is he a responsible father?"

She said, "Sometimes when I think about it from his perspective, it's really tough for him. He supports the family all by himself. " He taught to earn money to support the family, but when he came home, there was no woman on the kang (heated brick bed), which was quite pitiful.

I asked, "Without a woman on the kang, didn't he ever think about remarrying?"

She said, "Some people introduced me to potential wives, but he never agreed to meet them. Maybe he was afraid I would be abused by my stepmother? Maybe women thought he was too eager to marry me? Maybe it was because my family was poor. The conditions were bad, very difficult..."

I asked, "So later he couldn't take it anymore, broke down, and ran away. He abandoned you when you were twelve."

She said, "Yes. Actually, he was quite chaotic too. Sometimes after he finished, he would just bang his hair. After my mother passed away, his hair turned completely white, and then he lost a lot of it on his own." I asked , "How did you manage for more than a year?" She said, "Every day after school, I would cook, and he would drink. After we finished eating, I would tidy up, and he would smoke. I would sit on the kang and sew clothes.

"

He sat next to me and talked badly about me. Once, I went out for a bike ride with him. It was summer, and there was no one on the dirt road outside the village. He kept swearing at me while riding, and he even made my underwear wet. Later, when we got home, I let him touch me. I satisfied myself twice that time, but he was always limp.

I asked, "Does he sometimes go limp?"

She said, "Often. He drinks too much, and the alcohol probably gets to him. Many times when he's touching me, he suddenly gets aroused. It's really uncomfortable down there."

I asked, "So what do you do?"

She said, "I just play by myself."

I asked, "How do you play by yourself?"

She said, "I masturbate. " I asked

, "How do you masturbate? "

She said, "I just do it myself."

I asked, "How do you do it yourself?"

This isn't pretending to be stupid; it's an objective inquiry. Many times, you think you know everything, and you jump to conclusions as soon as you get to the first point, missing the real details.

She said, "I tease myself, play with myself, touch myself, touch my clitoris until I solve the problem. I feel better after I've solved it myself, otherwise I can't do anything properly, and I can't sleep."

I said, "How old were you when you first started masturbating?"

She said, "That year."

I said, "When you were eleven?"

She said, "Yeah, that's right. I was wondering, if he makes me feel good, can I do it myself? I started touching myself, and I learned pretty quickly. One time, I was doing it myself when he woke up, saw me, and seemed really upset. He started scratching my backside, spanking my bottom, and calling me a bad girl. I got really excited. It was so weird."

I said, "When he spanked you and called you bad, did you orgasm?"

She said, "Yes. I thought he was really happy. But then he suddenly ran away from home and hasn't come back. Nobody knows where he went."

I rubbed her breasts . I asked, "Do you hate him?"

She was silent for a long time before slowly saying, "Well... after he treated me like that, my body changed, I grew unwanted hair, my heart became wild, my studies suffered, I couldn't concentrate on my studies anymore, my life was a complete mess. What am I to him? Neither wife nor daughter, neither human nor ghost. But then again, I'm conflicted about him. I hate him. I blame him. After all, he's an adult, he has judgment and responsibility... I also love him. He's my only family. I've never loved anyone, a man, that much." I asked, "Do you have an aunt or uncle?" She said, "I had an aunt...

" I asked, "Did you?" She said, "She's dead. Dead for ten years. Is she a relative of mine?" I said, " Don't think like that." She said, "Anyway, I'm an orphan now, nobody wants me. I don't have money to continue my schooling, so I came to the city to earn money." I said, "Are there any people from your hometown here?" She said, "No. I don't want acquaintances to know about my family. It's shameful. So I came here alone." " I said, 'Have you ever had a boyfriend?' She said, 'No. I liked Big Donkey from our village. He was really handsome. Later he became a security guard in [location omitted].' I asked, 'Is your yard just empty?' She said, 'Yes. I haven't been back for years. I don't really want to go back. It feels creepy.' I said, 'Maybe your dad is home now.' She said, 'If he's going home, I don't want to go back even more.' I put my hand inside her pants, slowly rubbing her vulva, pinching her clitoris, teasing her with my fingers. Women are slow to warm up, no need to rush. She slowly started to twist her waist. I could tell she was getting aroused, itchy inside. I pulled her hand over and stuffed it into her pants. Her hand pulled away. I stuffed it back in, whispering in her ear, 'Watching you play by yourself is really exciting.' She half-heartedly resisted and started rubbing her clitoris. " I hugged her and asked, "You were thinking about fucking all the time after that, weren't you?" She said, "Mmm...yes..." I said, "You smell really good." She said, "Mmm...I'm pretty horny." I roughly handled her breasts. Her breasts were full, tender, and young. Her nipples hadn't shrunk back yet. I insulted and teased her, saying, "You little bitch are in heat." She said, "Mmm, yes, you little bitch are in heat, you're horny. Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck my pussy..." I pulled down her pants, completely exposing her pussy. Her pubic hair was soft and smooth. Her vulva was sticky and messy. Her labia were like mouths, slightly protruding, soft, and not very dark in color, like an unripe watermelon, with slight wrinkles, like a half-dried apricot. The moment my lips first licked her clitoris, she shuddered violently. Her pussy smelled very fresh and pure, youthful and restrained. I systematically licked her clitoris-pussy-anus, one lick at a time. As my tongue probed into her vagina, I felt it was already wet, secreting sticky, slippery, warm, slightly sour and salty vaginal fluid. I teased her anus with my fingers. Her anus contracted. I pulled her hand to her vagina and guided her to masturbate. She was embarrassed again. I insisted on holding her hand. She yielded, masturbating intently in front of me. My eyes were a centimeter away from her vagina. Her fingers were quite beautiful, her nails were very clean, and the shape was decent, long and slender. Her fingers gently caressed her clitoris and vagina. The scent of paper and ink from the books mingled with the smell of her vaginal secretions. She asked softly, "Is everyone gone?" I whispered, "Who knows?" She whispered again, "Will anyone come to this storeroom?" I whispered back, "Let them come or not. Who cares!" We both knew that acting like hooligans in this serious and elegant library storeroom could be discovered at any time. Our hearts were pounding. A little nervous, yet incredibly exciting. I pulled down her shirt, licking her vagina while simultaneously inserting my fingers into her anus. At the moment of her climax, I looked up to observe her closely; her nipples were hard and erect, her expression very much like a Japanese porn star, a picture of suppressed humiliation. Silently masturbating is so boring. Like a peasant. Language is a powerful tool for teasing women. Verbal stimulation is endlessly pleasurable. I pulled down her pants and slapped her bare buttocks repeatedly, saying, "You masturbate, you bad girl! Slut! I'll beat you to death! Beat you to death!" She bit her lip and groaned, continuing to masturbate while being slapped. I unconsciously began to play the role of her father. She spread her buttocks, exposing her anus to me. Her pink flesh fascinated me. While touching her anus, I intensified my verbal flirtation: "Little cunt! Like being fucked from behind?!" She nodded: "Mmm." I inserted my middle finger into her anus, saying, "You slutty asshole! Slut!" She moaned in a daze, like a woman intoxicated by alcohol. I pulled my middle finger out of her anus; it smelled musky, and smelled of feces. Residue. Further provoking her: "Look at this stinking shit! Look how filthy you are!" I shoved my dirty middle finger, which had just been inside her anus, into her mouth. She whimpered and licked my contaminated finger. I took my middle finger out and inserted it again into her tight, hot rectum, thrusting rapidly, like a dull knife piercing flesh. She cried out, "I can't take it anymore... I'm about to come... Yes! Fuck me there... Oh!" She thrust her hips, pushing against me, allowing my middle finger to penetrate even deeper; in other words, she was "fucking" my middle finger back. Her waist arched violently, like a wild deer leaping desperately in a net. The deer suddenly convulsed, its mouth wide open, roaring incoherently. The sound was swallowed by the air. Have you ever seen a baby fall to the ground crying? Mouth wide open, but no sound. Her lips were trembling violently. I had never seen such violent lip trembling. I thrust my middle finger in all the way, mimicking a piston, pumping wildly. The wild deer trembled in climax, eyes closed, teeth bared, howling as if to frighten the evil spirit. My middle finger was still burning hot as it fucked her intestines. Her fingers were already frozen on her clitoris. The highest climax had passed, and what followed was a deep trembling contraction. Her vagina secreted a large amount of sticky, hot, but thin fluid, like urine.

In verbal provocation, humiliation is part of the game.

Strategy one: quickly immerse her in a specific scenario, a slightly perverse scenario with many male villains and a female hero at the center.

I whispered crudely in her ear, "You've been kidnapped, there's a camera in front of you, and bad guys are groping and raping you from behind. This recording is being broadcast live worldwide."

She was already confused, moaning. She turned her head and kissed me. Her lips were burning hot.

I pinched her clitoris and continued to tease her, adding fuel to the fire: "You're being humiliated... your father is watching this recording. Daddy's dick is hard..."

Her "uh" was louder.

I continued: "Daddy shows his dick, gently touching, squeezing, grabbing, watching you being gang-raped by several big bad guys..."

Her breathing quickened.

I continued: "Close-up shot: Daddy saw a thug behind you peeing, spreading your thighs apart, stretching your anus open, and inserting a penis into your intestines. Another penis was fucking your cunt. Daddy said, 'Don't hold back, fuck this little slut to death, she just likes being fucked hard by strange men...'"

I placed my right leg between her legs and forcefully pressed against her cunt.

She twisted and writhed wildly, her legs clamping my right leg tightly. It hurt.

Strategy two: Now you need to lay out one or two idiotic questions that can be answered briefly.

I licked her earlobe and whispered, "You little slut, you play with yourself all day, you like to masturbate, right?"

She hummed in response, "Yes... touch me... let me..."

I masturbated her cunt and commanded, "Play with yourself, you little slut."

She obediently unbuttoned her top, revealing a pair of swollen breasts, tilted her head back, and moaned as she lovingly touched her breasts and rubbed her nipples.

She looked radiant, unrestrained, and wanton.

I fondled her smooth, bare breasts, further teasing her: "Suddenly the door opened..."

She responded excitedly, "Mmm!"

It was quite lively, with a comedian and a straight man.

"Mom burst in, saw your wet, hot cunt being fucked, and said, 'Ah?! So you like this?!'"

The climax came crashing down. She trembled wildly, as if electrocuted.

With a crash, the storeroom door was kicked open. We both jumped.

A middle-aged woman wearing arm sleeves walked in, stunned by this obscene display of lust in broad daylight, her lips trembled, moved slightly, but she couldn't utter a word.

My little slut was still convulsing in my arms. The climax was like a sneeze, once it started, it couldn't be stopped.

My hand, pressing against her cunt, felt hot water gushing out. A lot. It was urine. My little slut peed during her climax.

"Mmm... I... um... I... don't..." The little slut was shocked, scared, and excited, her face flushed, stammering, her eyes filled with fear and shame.

Golden urine splattered on the cardboard box beneath us.

The female librarian walked towards us, her face contorted as if she'd eaten shit, gritting her teeth and saying, "An insult to civility!"

I stood up. She was still charging at me: "Disgusting! Slut!"

I could call my girl a slut, a whore. Nobody else could. Absolutely not.

I threw a punch. She swallowed the rest of her words. My punch slammed into her chin from bottom to top.

A powerful, round punch, piercing her jawbone and going straight to her brain. She collapsed limply to the ground, like a rag doll. When she woke up, she'd have to learn to urinate from scratch.

Anyone who found her would assume she'd urinated on the book box.

When she could express herself fully, she might remember the punch she received today.

Even if she told anyone, who would believe the hysteria of a menopausal woman with a rusty brain?

She straightened her clothes. I pulled her downstairs and escaped through the fire escape at the back of the library.

Outside, it started snowing.

The outdoor temperature dropped sharply.

There weren't many people on the street.

We ran hand in hand.

She was excited and hot inside, seemingly oblivious to the cold wind; her face was healthy and rosy, radiant.

Back home, she let her hair down. Her long hair cascaded down, making her look energetic. Very mature. Very seductive.

She asked, "What do you do?"

I blurted out, "I sell jewelry."

Where is true love in this world? Just kidding. Just playing around. Why take it seriously?

She asked, "Don't you have a job? You just play around all day?"

I said, "I'm the type who doesn't make a sale for six months, but when I do, I live off it for six months."

She asked, "Then... how long will your money last us?"

I knew this girl would ask me that.

I said, "If we're careful, it'll last a month or two. When it runs out, we'll figure out how to earn more."

I took off her shoes, pulled off her socks, and kissed her feet.

Her bare feet were strange, mysterious, sensitive, possessing some kind of supernatural power, incredible.

I caressed her feet and said, "Your bare feet excite me, drive me crazy, make my dick hard."

I touched her inner thighs and licked her bare feet. She moaned.

I said, "Has he licked your feet?"

She said, "No."

I brought my cock to her mouth and said, "Suck on me."

She grabbed my big cock and started licking the ice cream. The ice cream got thicker and harder.

After licking for a while, she stopped and asked me, "Are you going to cum in my mouth later?"

I asked, "Do you want to?"

She looked at me and said, "Well, if you really want to, then cum."

She wouldn't go soft with that. Who wants to be cummed in their mouth?

She said, "Come on, fuck my mouth."

She masturbated while sucking my big cock.

Her hands were thrashing around below, rubbing her soft pussy like an idiot.

She sucked on my big cock, sometimes spitting out the glans, flicking the head with her tongue, then swallowing it deeply.

Not gagging at all. Very skilled. She clearly had practiced her virginity. I wasn't picky. These days, I doubt there are any girls who haven't been fucked!

She moaned, "Come on, use my body! Fuck me!"

Then she deep-throated me again.

Looking at her dazed expression, I knew she was reaching her climax.

I added fuel to the fire with a couple more words: "Slut! Lick Daddy properly! Lick Daddy's big cock! You rotten thing! You cheap cunt! Come on! Let Daddy watch you fuck yourself until you pass out!"

Hearing these words, she released her mouth, stopped sucking my cock, rolled her eyes, and reached her climax.

I squeezed her pear-shaped breasts hard. Her breasts twisted and deformed in my hands.

I continued to hold her slightly sweaty bare feet and used my strong thumb to vigorously dig into her pink anus.

After she recovered, she pulled my cock to her anus and said, "Daddy, use my ass."

I licked her anus hard, deliberately making lewd smacking sounds, deliberately opening my mouth wide and panting, imitating an eager male dog, making her feel like an animal was doing her.

She hummed meaningless notes and words, continuing to rub her cunt, her fingers wet, making my cock throb painfully.

My prostate is definitely highly congested, and my vas deferens is overloaded with semen, like an overloaded train ready to depart, or a smoothbore gun with a fuse on top.

My eyes were bloodshot, I was utterly deranged, and I thrust my penis into her wet, crevice.

My cock pounded into her cunt, "splat splat," juices splattering everywhere.

She arched her back, like a carp having its scales scraped off.

She raised her arms, gripping the headboard, the iron bed frame groaning.

*Gurgle gurgle gurgle gurgle*. Our wet genitals made the sound of an old ox pulling its hooves from the mud.

*Slap slap slap slap slap*. Our sweaty bodies slapped against each other.

*Twist slap creak creak*. The bed frame and legs rubbed together.

*Thump thump thump thump thump*. The headboard slammed against the wall. I liked it.

Out of my SM fanaticism, I bought this iron-framed bed, convenient for rope binding and fastening.

But after trying rope play with several sluts on this bed, they all thought it was just so-so.

Compared to that, I prefer the seductive swaying of the iron bed, let the neighbors imagine! Ha! They'll definitely think I'm unique, especially lewd.

She said, "Mmm! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"

I gritted my teeth and resisted my urge to ejaculate: "You stinking cunt! I'll fuck you to death!"

She echoed, "Mmm! Fuck me to death then!"

I said, "You shameless stinking cunt!"

She echoed, "Daddy, fuck me! Shoot in my cunt!"

The conversation had reached a fever pitch. Both of them had gone mad.

Under the cover of night, her white body arched upwards, like layers of waves in the dark.

She rubbed her clitoris, cruelly ravaging that super sensitive clitoris.

Her orgasm began, her muscles contracting powerfully, like a dairy farm girl stroking my penis.

I suddenly started slapping her mouth, humiliating her: "You slut! Your daddy's fucking cunt!"

Actually, I despise sluts. I have no sympathy for them.

But she was so dizzy from being fucked that she didn't feel I was humiliating her.

The extreme dizziness of the orgasm made her lose her senses and become stupid. She kept moaning "uh-huh" with her eyes closed, as if confessing or repenting.

This excited me.

As her orgasm gradually subsided and she regained her senses, I stopped and stopped hitting her. I touched her face and continued to thrust my hips, raising my gun and thrusting my hips.

Her rotten cunt was as hot as a furnace after her orgasm.

She lazily opened her eyes, looked at me, and whispered, "Shoot me to death..." Her voice was hoarse from shouting.

I said, "Okay, I'll grant your wish!"

I gripped her shoulders and launched another high-frequency attack.

Gush gush puchi puchi slap slap slap twitch twitch creak creak thump thump thump oh my god... Saliva

dripped out, her nostrils flared, she was hyperventilating, and suddenly a big nasal bubble came out of her nostril, round and shiny.

I felt like I was about to guzzle, so I quickly pulled out, took a deep breath, and thought of something else.

I pulled her hair and dragged her up, making her face the large mirror next to us.

While I was fucking her, I said, "Look at yourself! You slut! You stinky cunt!"

She said, "Use your big cock to fuck my ass."

I deliberately said, "I think it's dirty."

She lifted her legs, spread her buttocks, exposing her anus to me, encouraging me, "Daddy, fuck my ass... fuck my dirty ass... fuck my stinky shit out!"

I made her get down on all fours, lying on the bed.

I inserted my cock into her wet anus, burying it in her lubricated intestines, and fucked her hard from behind.

I panted heavily, saying intermittently, "Fuck me! You slut!"

She obediently thrust her ass towards me, cooperating with my movements, "fucking" me back.

I looked down. My cock was wet and glistening, sliding in and out of her anus.

She moaned hoarsely, "Daddy, shoot in my ass!"

I released my semen, spurting it into her anus.

My large penis shriveled, expelled from her intestines.

As soon as I finished ejaculating, I immediately fell into a deep sleep, completely unconscious.

In my dream, she was naked, squatting on my face, touching her own vulva, and defecating on my face.

Slurping, runny poop kept gushing out of her anus.

*Thump! Plop plop plop plop!*

I was startled awake by the loud fart. It was already bright daylight. I saw her naked, squatting on the high white porcelain urinal, straining to defecate.

She said embarrassedly, "Did I wake you up?"

I said, "Hi, good morning."

She said, "Not a good morning."

I asked, "Why not?"

She said, "You ejaculated all over my belly yesterday, and now my poop is all your poop."

I lay in bed, and I could see a few strands of sticky fluid hanging from her anus, glistening.

As I looked, my penis became hard.

I held back a large wad of morning urine.

I got up, climbed onto the high platform, pressed her head down, and lifted her buttocks.

She complied.

I pressed the head of my penis against her slippery anus and thrust it in; it slid in easily.

She asked, "Doing this so early in the morning? Aren't you tired, you pervert?"

I ignored her, focusing on relaxing my bladder and urethra.

Okay. Slippery, slippery, slippery. Splashing, splashing, splashing. A hidden stream surged.

She realized I was giving her an enema with hot urine, and her hand reached under her vagina, gently touching my large testicles.

I urinated even more freely, vigorously spraying her intestines.

She whispered, "You're so naughty."

And so, I poured a large stream of hot urine into her soft intestines.

When I had no more urine left, my penis withdrew from her anus. I didn't want to do it to her anymore, because I had to pay my dues to my mother today.

She resumed her standard defecation posture, squatting on the white porcelain urinal, preparing to expel the morning urine I had used to cleanse her intestines.

I went down the steps and sat beside her, watching.

Her anus strained violently, and suddenly a stream of yellow fluid gushed out—it contained everything: my semen, urine, and a little feces.

She asked me, "Do you think your anus will loosen up after a while?"

I answered while getting dressed, "Maybe."

She said, "Will it still hold feces?"

I said, "Yes, don't worry. I'm going to see my mom. Here's the key. There's money in the drawer."

She said, "Oh, you're not taking me?"

I said, "Next time, don't rush, take your time. You can go downstairs for a walk and buy some groceries."

She said, "Okay."

I said, "Don't let some bad guy kidnap you ."

She laughed, "That's hard to say."

Without desire, one is invincible. Coming and going without attachment. I'm not worried about her running away. Women are a nuisance, a burden; let them run.

I'm not worried about her taking my money. My house is bare, with only a few simple pieces of furniture, a few hundred yuan in cash in the drawer, and all my cards are on me, always with me.

When I got to my mom's building, I just saw my dad drive away.

I have two mothers. This is my dad's first wife.

My family has special circumstances, and it's a long story.

To be continued...

06-01
04: Disabled Mother Gets an Enema

Key points for this episode: mother and son, anal sex, enema, armless disability. If

you like it, keep reading.

If it's not to your liking, you can go back immediately.

No one is forcing you to read.

I'm warning you!

Episode 4 begins.

I arrived at my mother's building and just saw my father drive away.

I have two mothers. This is my father's main house. East Palace.

There are special circumstances in my family, it's a long story.

I went into the building, took out my key to open the door, and before I could call out "Mom," Ah Biao rushed over and bumped into my leg, extremely excited, panting and trembling. It's like this every day.

The room had a faint, fleshy smell, like the smell of a live sex act.

My mother's hair was messy, and when she saw me, her expression was strange.

I went over, ruffled her hair, and asked, "Is something wrong today?"

My mother said, "Nothing."

Both of her sleeves were empty.

My mother has no arms. She eats and drinks with her feet, and relieves herself with help. Life was inconvenient, requiring constant care.

Caring for a disabled person is extremely demanding work.

My father gradually lost patience and had an affair; I've met her, called "Niang'er."

["Niang'er" is a word with multiple meanings, including aunt, cousin, father's close friend, mother, stepmother, and so on. —a8 note] Niang'er was physically healthy and much younger than my mother. Pretty vulgar, right? It really is vulgar. Life is never elegant. The reality itself is vulgar.

My father rarely comes home. This old apartment has basically become my mother's single dormitory.

I've hired caregivers, all young, playful, and lazy.

I've hired eleven in total, but none lasted long; either my mother fired them, or they fired my mother. In the end, I found that I was the one who spent the most time with my mother.

A-Biao could help a little, but he couldn't cook.

I came over every day to cook for her.

On sunny days, I would take her downstairs to sunbathe.

I would also tidy up the house and help her with the laundry.

Without arms, she lost her balance and was prone to falling.

Every daily task required unimaginable effort from her.

Unbuttoning and undressing herself took her half an hour; peeling an apple or relieving herself left her panting.

Every time I visited, the first thing I did was give her water. When I wasn't home, she wouldn't dare drink freely.

I mixed the dog food and added water to the dog's water bowl. Ah Biao ate and drank voraciously.

I scraped potatoes, chopped them into small pieces, steamed them, peeled apples, chopped them into small pieces, put them in a microwave-safe bowl, added salad dressing, stirred well, and placed it by the bed.

After finishing, I washed my hands, came back, sat next to my mother, and kneaded her soft bottom. My hands slipped inside her shirt. I grabbed her juicy breasts.

She tilted her head back. I kissed her neck.

We have our principles. For example, no kissing on the lips. I forgot how we formed those principles. We've kissed everywhere, but never on the lips. I have no desire to kiss either.

I took off her shirt and squeezed her big, soft breasts.

Her large, soft breasts were warm, plump, and sagging.

I like middle-aged women, I like older women, I like women who have given birth, I like large, soft breasts.

I said, "Big breasts, I like them."

Mom said, "You're full of filth. You pervert."

I asked, "What's wrong? What should I call them if not 'big breasts'? 'My breasts'?"

Mom said, "Call them 'Mom'."

I said, "No. It's easy to get confused. You can call them 'Mom' too."

Mom said, "Then call them 'Little Mom,' or 'Mimi'."

I said, "Okay. What about the nipples?"

Mom said, "Hmm, call them 'Sweetie'."

I said, "Oh, okay. Why do people like to smoke? Because the diameter of the cigarette butt is..."

Mom interrupted me, "You pervert!"

I tortured her breasts in various ways.

Her body trembled slightly.

Her breasts were more sensitive than those of ordinary women. God took away her arms, but her other parts became more sensitive and more vibrant.

My mother raised her legs and touched my face with her bare feet. Her feet were unusually flexible. Use it all the time. Use it or lose it.

I kissed the soles and toes of her feet.

I held my mother in my arms, using one hand to stroke her sweaty pubic hair and touch her clitoris.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "Touch my clitoris...pinch it..."

I gently pinched the base of her clitoris with my index finger and thumb, shaking it up and down, applying slight pressure, pulling, pinching, twisting, and kneading her clitoral fossa, playing with her in various ways.

Her clitoral head was already swollen like a soybean.

I laid my mother flat on the bed, unzipped her pants, and said, "Mom, I'm going to lick you."

Her eyes trembled.

I went down and kissed the base of her thighs.

I pulled down her panties.

The crotch of her panties was already soaked.

After taking off her panties, I saw that her vulva was wet.

I inserted my middle finger and felt that her hot vulva was full of semen, making a gurgling sound.

I asked coldly, "Did he fuck you well just now?"

Mom touched my face and said, "No..."

I continued to interrogate, "How did he do it to you?"

Mom said, "He did it like that, three thuds inside, and I was just getting a little aroused when he finished. I didn't come. It's hard for me to come with him."

I knew that. My mom's sexual happiness depends entirely on me. She rarely orgasms on her own. My dad doesn't care about her satisfaction at all. He might not come for a month or two, probably afraid my mom will ask for living expenses.

I always go to the old man for living expenses.

Mom, who had just been fucked by my dad, looked at me, gentle, guilty, and full of remorse.

I said, "You slut!"

I used my middle finger to smack her pussy.

She moaned and groaned.

Suddenly I thrust my middle finger into her urethra.

Sometimes I insert a catheter into her.

Catheters save a lot of trouble. After inserting it many times, it becomes a conditioned reflex, the urethra becomes slightly relaxed, and penetration brings pleasure, making it a second pussy.

Mom moaned comfortably under my touch.

I took out the blindfold I got on the plane last time and blindfolded my mother.

Blindfolding a woman and telling her stories of gang rape can amplify her excitement and give her the illusion that she's being violated by strangers.

I told the story: "Tell you, the Vietnamese soldiers captured a female soldier, amputated her limbs, stopped the bleeding, and fattened her up..."

My mother chimed in, "Hmm, what for?"

I said, "This female soldier was stripped naked and laid on a table. The officer penetrated her vagina, and the soldiers even groped and sucked on her..."

My mother said, "Oh~~"

I said, "This female soldier could only lie there, being penetrated and fucked. After the officer finished, the soldiers fucked her. Her vagina was full of semen, and it was flowing out..."

She listened excitedly, imagining the specific scenes, immersing herself in the fantasy.

"Put it in her mouth, put it in her ass, put it in her urethra. She feels so good, she's about to come. The soldiers say, 'This slut, now that she's in our hands, what should we do?' Everyone answers: 'Fuck her to death! Fuck her to death!'" She was slightly breathless

.

We were all slightly breathless.

Mom closed her eyes, saying in a daze, "No...don't..."

But her body didn't lie. She became wet. Her vagina and clitoris were covered in her estrus secretions.

Mom's expression was confused and conflicted.

It was obvious that her son had aroused her, while at the same time she was suppressing her excitement.

A mother is always mindful of maternal virtue.

Women have both "maternal instincts" and "prostitute instincts."

By their forties and fifties, a woman's "maternal instincts" and "prostitute instincts" both grow hysterically and wildly.

I touched her anus.

It was wrinkled and moist.

She looked into my eyes.

I slid my finger into her anus. She was shocked.

Her powerful sphincter muscles immediately began to resist the intruder. It was a bodily instinct.

I inserted it again. She relaxed slightly. I took the opportunity to enter. Her

firm anus gripped my fingers tightly.

My fingers went in and out, starting to fuck her asshole, the base of my palm hitting her vagina and clitoris.

Ah Biao sat beside me, his big eyes wet, quietly watching this depraved mother and son. A lewd

atmosphere began to rise. A

decadent smell permeated the room.

My penis entered, and I started fucking her, like an old monk striking a bell, half-heartedly.

My mother rose and fell under my penis.

I love fucking disabled women. Watching that incomplete, deformed beauty while fucking, her head tilted as she moaned, being fucked to orgasm, could be the ultimate experience.

At this moment, my attention was not on her.

While absentmindedly fucking her, I calmly scanned my surroundings.

Ah Biao, having slept and eaten his fill, was already lying on the carpet asleep, snoring.

I took a big, thick cucumber, with thorns on top.

I pulled out my penis, stuck the cucumber into my mother's vagina, and fucked her with the cucumber.

I thrust hard, using the cucumber to fiercely pound her uterus.

I shoved the cucumber in like a rolling pin, all the way in.

The cucumber brought out a lot of sticky stuff—semen, vaginal fluid.

Those who've been with older women know that women who have given birth often think your penis isn't long or thick enough. They don't say it out loud because they don't want to hurt your feelings.

Sometimes, in bed, mothers like to be treated roughly.

[Ten years ago, when I first started with my mother, I was very gentle, always afraid of hurting her. Then one time, I was watching porn with her, I forget if it was French or Italian, but there was a scene where a woman was walking barefoot in the forest. In front of a small cabin, she heard a clicking sound and saw a man, shirtless, sweating profusely, wearing only jeans, with thick chest hair and a stubble beard. He wasn't exactly handsome, but his features were very rugged. He was vigorously chopping wood with a large axe in the sunlight. Later, this man pinned the woman to the ground and raped her violently.] My mother couldn't help but say, "How wonderful it would be if he could fuck me!" Later, I gradually increased the force and became rougher, discovering that my mother really liked it, and also discovering that women's bodies are incredibly resilient, much stronger than I had imagined. [Note from a8] My penis was covered in a lot of sticky fluid. I pressed my wet penis against her anus, encountering resistance.

I slapped her buttocks and said, "Relax, you slut! Let the big one in!"

She responded, "Big one in... big one in~"

Actually, to put it bluntly, fucking is a game where you tease her and she teases you, like tennis, you hit her and she hits back, both of you are covered in sweat, you release the electric shock, and it's over.

My mother's face was covered by a blindfold, her lips were slightly parted, her two big soft breasts swayed, and her vagina was being fucked by a cucumber. She had no arms below her shoulders, as if she were tightly bound by ropes.

I thrust my penis in again. Her sphincter was still quite tight. I thrust in again. It went in.

My mother's hot anus enveloped me.

I suddenly remembered seeing those large white characters painted on the wall of a house near Tianjin many years ago: "Tianjin eagerly awaits the arrival of immortals."

The anus grips the penis much stronger than the vagina, so I thrust in and out, pumping wildly, making piston-like movements.

I violently rammed into my mother's white, tender buttocks, offending my birth mother. Comfortable. Exhilarating!

Under my violent thrusting, my mother's moans made me even more uncontrollable.

I frantically pounded the cucumber and fucked her anus, watching my mother writhe in pain under the double stimulation.

A crippled cunt is the most seductive. A crippled woman is the most lewd. She's missing two arms, and I'm compensating for it below her.

I quickly rubbed her urethra and clitoris with my thumb. Her clitoral head was already swollen like a small peanut.

A tingling sensation came from my tailbone; I knew I was almost out of control, so I quickly slowed down my piston-like speed to prolong the blissful enjoyment.

The cucumber was pushed in three-quarters of the way, only the dark green tail protruding from the vaginal opening. Every time I poked her anus, I pushed the cucumber tail, pushing it further in.

The feeling of the torrent subsided a bit, and I gradually increased my speed and intensity. The torrent returned, and I quickly slowed down my thrusts again.

The feeling of the torrent subsided a bit, and I ravaged again. This repeated four or five times.

I wasn't in a hurry to ejaculate; I even took a break between rounds. I calmly pulled out, got up to drink some water, and came back to continue.

Her whole body was burning hot, and her moans had been distorted by the fucking, escaping from her throat in a distorted way—the most ecstatic sound I had ever heard.

I looked at her coldly; she was still wearing a blindfold, her hair disheveled, her large breasts swaying, moaning beneath me.

As I fucked her, I suddenly felt the scene was absurd and ridiculous. I felt incredibly stupid.

Her rotten cunt waited for me every day, waiting for me to bring her spasms and contractions.

She gave birth to me. I respected her. She betrayed her husband. I despised her.

I cursed, "Slut! Bitch!"

Mom groaned, "Ouch... um! Ouch... ugh! Ouch!..."

I thrust harder, fucking her to death. With a snap, the cucumber broke, a small half falling out, the majority buried in her cunt.

This obscene detail further aroused Mom, pushing her to the peak.

Mom finally grinned and cried out, "Ah!!! ~~~~————"

At the same time, she began to contract wildly.

This was the sign that my mom had reached the top. She always gave this signal when she orgasmed.

I ripped off her blindfold. At this moment, her eyes were like thick porridge, her eyelids unable to open.

She came to her senses and said to me, "Mom is satisfied. Come on."

The piston went faster and faster.

It was going to explode. It was going to explode! I was about to ejaculate! My

cock was pulled out of her intestines, and I stroked the salad with my hand, shooting out a torrent of semen.

Mom breathed out hot air, inhaling the aroma of fresh semen, watching me prepare her meal, and couldn't help but lift her foot to stroke my cock, caressing my balls, making me ejaculate even more thoroughly.

Finally, I finished ejaculating. My penis was limp and I inserted two fingers into her hot vagina, grabbed the large cucumber inside, and pulled it out. It was slippery, so I sliced it into small pieces and put them in a microwave-safe bowl.

I mixed my dad's semen, my semen, and salad dressing together.

I had just scooped a spoonful to feed her when she said, "I'm feeling it now. It's all because of you." [Here, "feeling it now" specifically means she wanted to poop.] I put down the salad dressing and spoon and helped her into the bathroom.

Ah Biao pricked up his ears and glanced at us. I said to him, "Go back to sleep!"

He relaxed and went back to sleep.

My mother sat naked on the toilet.

I asked, "Didn't poop today?"

Mom looked up at me and said, "I didn't poop yesterday either."

I stood naked in front of the toilet, held her head, and said, "Mom, try harder! Push!"

She hunched her shoulders and lowered her head to lick my penis.

I said, "Stop messing around. Will you be able to poop like this?"

She stopped messing around, pressed her head against my stomach, and tried to push. No luck.

I squatted down and rubbed her stomach. Her stomach was soft.

I pressed harder and felt a slight hardness deep inside her stomach.

She tried to push again, standing on her tiptoes. Still couldn't poop.

She's always had severe constipation.

I told her to get up, turn around, and stick her butt out. I licked her anus. Licking the anus until it's slippery is the first step to help with bowel movements.

My mother groaned, her beautiful anus clenching tightly. She didn't have hemorrhoids. Women are so strange.

I inserted a finger into her vagina, coating it with her vaginal fluids, then pulled it out and rubbed her tight anus in circles.

My wet finger slid into her warm rectum, quickly hitting the hard part—dry, hard, like a smooth pebble solidified into a thick strip of cement.

I inserted my finger into her thick, hard clump of feces, playing with her rectum and probing her stool.

She whispered hoarsely, "Oh, it's so full inside... oh..."

I pulled out my finger, which was ochre-yellow and smelled of decay and fermentation.

She said, "Pull it out... don't stop... it's so uncomfortable..."

I inserted it again, probing her stool while rubbing her clitoris.

"Ah... oh! Oh... fuck me! Baby... fuck me!"

Under the combined stimulation, she orgasmed. The orgasm caused a strong contraction of the pelvic floor muscles, increasing abdominal pressure.

I felt her dry, hard clump of feces being pushed outward by a force.

I withdrew my finger and forcefully pried open her anus with both hands.

After her orgasm, she couldn't stand anymore. She bent her legs and squatted down, concentrating on defecating, groaning loudly as if struggling through childbirth or suffering a serious injury, her anus bulging out two centimeters.

I squatted down beside her, staring intently at her bulging anus.

I said, "Go, Mom!"

The turd finally emerged, furtively examining the strange world outside her anus.

Her excrement was particularly thick, full of swollen lumps, stretching her sphincter muscles wide open. It kept moving outwards.

I cupped my hands under Mom's buttocks to catch the monster.

The entire turd finally came out, landing in my hand, heavy and substantial, over thirty centimeters long, extremely thick, dark, dry, and odorless.

A stream of yellow urine splattered onto the bathroom floor tiles. A pungent, fishy smell filled the air.

I showed Mom this newly delivered turd, praising her, "Mom, you're amazing, so capable!"

Mom's face flushed red, her breathing still unsteady.

I broke the large enema stick into three pieces, flushed it down the toilet, and said, "Mom, you're not drinking enough water. Let's get a catheter inserted tomorrow so you can drink more water."

She nodded, then looked at me pitifully and said, "I'm still feeling the urge. Give Mom an enema."

I took out a large triangular enema flask, filled it with warm water, and made her lie on the bathroom mat like a female dog, her buttocks raised.

I applied lubricant to her anus and the anal tube, inserted it, and squeezed out the stool. Warm water gushed into her rectum.

She sighed and whispered, "Mom, I'm just wasting your time..."

I think if someone lacks a certain part, their perspective on problems tends to be negative.

I jokingly comforted her, "What are you saying? Other men might wish they had such a good mother, but do they? They don't! This is my blessing!"

I continued to give her the enema.

She asked, "Have you been fooling around outside?"

I said, "Of course I've been eating, drinking, and having fun, but I won't harm ordinary people."

She said, "Seriously, you should find someone good to marry soon.

You can't keep wasting time with me like this." I casually replied, "Oh, I am looking. Don't rush me. Do you think this is like buying radishes, picking them up one by one?"

Her belly was noticeably protruding, like a hairless female dog in her second trimester of pregnancy.

She knelt on the ground, her head touching the ground, unsteady. I simply sat on the non-slip mat, holding her upper body, and continued to force-feed her.

She asked, "How much did you force-feed me today?"

"3000 ml."

She said, "Okay, come out. I can't take it anymore."

I withdrew the tube, still holding her, my right hand massaging her slippery anus, my left hand gently massaging her belly.

She said, "Get off me! I can't take it anymore!" Her voice was urgent.

I calmly said, "The book says that after an enema, you have to wait twenty minutes before defecating to ensure it's completely dissolved and softens the impacted stool in the intestines."

She asked, "What kind of 'rogue book' is this?"

I said, "It's a nursing textbook, published by the People's Medical Publishing House."

She said, "Men shouldn't go to doctors, women shouldn't go to nurses, all medical students are scoundrels."

I said, "That's true. I also read a paper online, written by a female head nurse, saying that when you have an enema, your buttocks should be higher than your head to allow for a larger and deeper enema, up to 4000 ml at a time. She's been researching enemas for years..."

My mother interrupted me, "Oh no, you have to hurry!"

I was still eager to continue, so I helped her up and onto the toilet.

Actually, I wanted her to just kneel on the floor and defecate onto me, but I couldn't force her.

She didn't want to, so I didn't force her. Disabled people are especially vulnerable; you never know what you might say that could hurt them. There are safe words in SM games, and caring for a disabled partner is like walking on thin ice.

Ordinary people's hearts are made of glass, but my mother's heart is made of rice and sugar.

I squatted down next to her, rubbing her tummy and saying, "Just a little longer."

She said, "No, I really can't hold it in anymore!!!"

A series of muffled thuds. She

'd finally had a bowel movement.

Dry stool, runny stool, and hard lumps mixed in the warm brown water, roaring as they gushed from her anus and into the toilet. All the

accumulated waste was gone.

The pungent smell quickly filled the entire bathroom,

making me want to vomit. My throat tightened, my tongue felt sore, and I felt a little nauseous. She flushed the toilet

, saying, "I'll flush one load of water first."

Just as she flushed, a second wave followed, surging and roaring as it emerged from her anus. I kept rubbing her tummy. Thud

th ... My mother leaned weakly on my shoulder, panting, with a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.

I turned on the warm shower, adjusted the hot water, and rinsed Mom's body. I even removed the showerhead and held the showerhead up between her thighs, spraying her vagina and anus.

I washed Mom's hair, scrubbed her back, washed her legs and feet, focusing on cleaning her vagina and anus. There was someone else's semen inside her vagina, but I hadn't penetrated much that day.

Mom continued chatting with me: "There are quite a lot of divorces these days, don't feel inferior."

I laughed: "Who feels inferior? I think being divorced is great. Freedom."

Mom said: "That won't do. People still need to settle down."

I said: "I'm comfortable now, feeling quite unrestrained. Now no one can upset me, no one can give me a hard time. This is probably how my life will be."

Mom said seriously: "I can't talk to you like this! What kind of behavior is this!"

I said: "Okay, we'll talk about it later..."

Mom said: "Life is about swallowing your anger, about suffering and enduring. Even Sun Wukong has a headband. Hurry up. Hurry up and find someone."

I said: "Okay."

I also took a quick shower and then turned off the water.

First, I dried my mother off, then quickly dressed her in underwear and pajamas to keep her warm.

After the shower, she felt refreshed. Back in the bedroom, sitting on the bed, I combed her hair with a comb and asked, "Are you hungry?"

My mother nodded, "A little."

I said, "After two rounds, how could you not be hungry?"

Hearing this, my mother tensed up and asked, "Are you disgusted with your mother?"

Knowing I was being too casual, I quickly said, "I'm with you all the time, why would I be disgusted? My dear mother isn't a slut!"

My mother's blood boiled, and her face turned red.

I interrupted, "Come on, eat quickly, hurry up."

I brought over the bowl of semen salad and fed my mother spoonful by spoonful.

She held her bare feet to my hand, saying, "I can do this myself. You should rest for a while. You haven't even caught your breath since you came in."

I said, "I'll do it. It's cold. Cold enters through the feet."

Even though I said that, I still let go of the spoon.

People with disabilities are often even more resilient. Sometimes, going along with her can give her self-respect.

Her bare toes were as nimble as her hands; she picked up a spoon and scooped a spoonful of salad for me. I shook my head. I didn't eat it. She ate it herself.

There was a window by the bed.

I slightly pulled back the curtains and looked out through the glass.

Mom was chewing her salad, also looking out the window.

There were frost flowers on the corner of the windowpane.

Under the streetlights, snowflakes fluttered down silently.

I turned on the electric heater.

She ate her salad in silence, not looking at me.

I've noticed that in our country, family members, even spouses and close friends, rarely make eye contact when they talk; they're not used to eye contact.

As soon as Mom finished eating, I quickly covered her up tightly and put her hands under the covers to massage her bare feet.

Her feet were icy cold. Women are naturally prone to feeling cold; raising their feet prevents blood from flowing, making

them even colder, especially in this snowy weather. I massaged them vigorously to restore blood circulation.

I massaged her left foot, and she poked her right foot out of the covers to press the remote control to change channels on the TV. I massaged her right foot,

and she poked her left foot out of the covers to press the remote control.

After all that fuss, her feet still hadn't warmed up. Getting a cold would only add to my troubles! Taking care of a disabled person is much more tiring than you imagine. More tiring than raising a child. You can hit a disobedient child. But can you hit this?!

I suddenly felt an urge to punish her, and tickled her soft, bare soles with my fingertips.

Her feet were unusually sensitive. Her legs trembled, her whole body shook, snot burst from her nose, and she laughed hysterically. I continued to gently scratch with my fingernails.

My mother, laughing hysterically, reflexively raised her knee and bumped it into my chin. I tickled her feet even more fiercely.

She laughed and laughed, then at some point, her laughter turned into sobs.

I stopped tickling her soles.

She cried. Sobbing.

Life is hard enough, but my mother's is even harder.

I started massaging her feet properly again.

After crying for a long time, she suddenly whispered, "Mom really can't take it anymore, can you move in with me? If you live here, #￥％＊…" (This sentence was spoken very quickly, all connected together, like a mountain stream plunging into a pool).

I didn't quite hear her and asked, "W-what did you say?"

She immediately regained her composure and said shamefully, "Never mind. Forget I said anything. There's no way out for us like this."

I said, "What way out? Actually, everyone's tragedy is real. What's wrong with us like this? Who are we hurting? We can keep it to ourselves, only heaven and earth know."

Mom was silent for a long time, then whispered, "I…I haven't come for several days! I've been very punctual." I was shocked

.

05: Fighting Despair with Sex

Key hints for this episode: masturbation in front of others, gang rape fantasies, urination and defecation, incontinence orgasm.

If you like it, keep watching. If you're easily offended, press the back button.

I'm warning you! Don't finish watching and then say you can't take it!

The fifth episode begins

with Mom remaining silent for a long time before whispering, "I...I haven't come for several days! I've always been very punctual."

My heart skipped a beat.

Mom is still far from menopause. Even the most careful person will eventually get wet.

Mom noticed my stiff expression and said softly, "Don't be afraid, that's why I called your dad over today..."

Before leaving, I inserted a catheter for her. A large, rectangular white plastic bottle with a tight neck was attached.

The water dispenser was nearby.

I picked up my coat and put it on, reminding her, "Don't burn yourself getting the water."

Mom asked reluctantly, "Why don't you leave tomorrow?"

I said, "I'd like to stay the night, but I have a lot of things to do. Maybe next time."

Mom said, "Okay, then you go ahead and do your thing."

She then stuck her feet out of the covers and pressed a button on the remote control.

Outside, the snow was falling heavily, and the wind whipped snowflakes stinging my face.

On the way, my mind was in turmoil.

My mom relies on me too much. And I spoil her too much.

Many times, I feel that since she's younger than me and given her situation, if I don't spoil her, who will?

She appears gentle, but she's even more fragile inside, submissive, lacks emotional intelligence, and sometimes acts foolishly, disobedient, and infuriating.

As a result, I've spoiled her. Last month, we had a passionate encounter, and she objected to me using a condom. I calculated the dates and said no, and she became hysterical.

I said, "What if I get pregnant?" She said, "Then we'll have the baby!"

In the end, I gave in.

Men are all beasts.

With a vagina in front of them, they're even more beasts.

A wet, hot vagina gripping a hard penis and sucking it in—what animal still has principles?

My mother is pregnant with my child. Should I have the baby?

Or should I abort it? It's bad for her health.

What if my father suspects something?

He knows he hasn't been coming much for two months, he knows getting pregnant isn't easy, he knows I'm the one taking care of my mother every day.

What if he insists on doing a paternity test?

If he's born, he'll have to call my mom "Mom," my dad "Dad," and me "Brother."

But my mom isn't his grandma, she's his mom; I'm not his brother, he's his dad!

Besides, who will raise him if he's born?

My dad's living a comfortable life outside the family, he definitely won't raise this brat.

It'll be just my mom and me raising him. While

my mom and I are raising him, I'll still have to take care of her, inevitably leading to some clues being revealed.

When he grows up and realizes he's been fooled, will he hate us?

Will he inherit the wrong genes?

I'm my mom's child, and my relationship with her is ambiguous.

He's also my mom's child, will he also... well? What if it gets worse? A genetic mutation?

I'm so confused and annoyed.

My mom has a disability, and my dad isn't around. He can't live without me, and he's emotionally dependent on me.

Allowing me to bathe her, scrub her back, help her with her bodily functions, and do whatever I want with her body is just a way of keeping me tied down.

[Don't be fooled by the large number of people who are attracted to the disabled these days. If you really made them do all the cleaning, cleaning, cooking, and laundry, how long could they last? --a8 note] Continuing with the topic of women.

I've been considering a possibility: my mother betrayed my father, so why can't she betray me?

This thing is addictive; once you've tasted it

, you're hooked. Reason won't hold out for long; it will eventually give way. Once

a woman speaks, physical desire takes over.

One betrayal leads to a second.

My mother is like that, and so is that little slut in my apartment.

All unfaithful women in the world are sluts. Crazy sluts and repressed sluts all deserve to be fucked to death.

Subway car.

After days of intense sex, plus the swaying of the train like a cradle, I was drowsy.

Just as I was dozing off, I felt that little slut press against my body. Wait a minute, she's at home.

I opened my eyes wide and saw a woman pressed against me, her head on my shoulder, in her early thirties, looking extremely tired.

I quickly checked my pockets. They were all still there.

There were plenty of empty seats in the car; she insisted on leaning against me.

What's the meaning of this "pussy" in the subway? A laid-off female worker? A trap?

I cautiously scanned the other passengers in the carriage. Eight out of ten were resting with their eyes closed, one was looking at a text message and chuckling to himself, and another was reading a newspaper.

A peaceful scene, not like a trap.

I categorize women into two types: those

I want to fuck and those I don't. Of course, women themselves are further divided into two groups: those I

can fuck and those I can't. Wanting to fuck and being able to fuck them is like Zhou Yu and Huang Gai—mutually interested.

Wanting to fuck them but never being able to is unrequited love.

Being delivered to someone's door but not fucked leads to regret and heartbreak (a beautiful pussy was placed before you, and you didn't cherish it...).

Being fucked by someone you can't is a disastrous move by Nie, purely for temporary relief, but it backfires, causing countless troubles afterward—a small spark can ignite your complete disgrace.

The world is a dangerous place, so I had to be careful. As

soon as I entered, the little vixen opened her eyes on the bed, sat up, jumped off happily, and rushed over barefoot, leaping onto me and wrapping her arms around my neck.

Her long hair was disheveled, and she said affectionately, "Why are you only just getting back…"

I picked her up and carried her to the bedside, tossing her onto it, saying, "I'm going to wash my hands."

She clung to me, refusing to let go: "Is washing your hands more important than me?"

Those long arms of hers were so clingy! I wasn't quite used to it yet. My mom's been driving me crazy; she wouldn't even let me catch my breath once I stepped inside.

I said to her with a stern face, "Don't mess with me."

Then I went to wash my hands. After

washing my hands, I came over, sat down next to her, and looked at her.

She was holding up a mirror, showing me my face. Ashen. Not good-looking.

She said, "When my dad gets angry at me, I feel terrible, like the sky is about to fall."

I asked, "What did you eat for dinner?"

She said, "I ate out. There's a Lanzhou noodle shop outside your neighborhood; they give a lot of meat."

I touched her delicate arms.

She asked, "Is your mother sick?"

I said, "Your mother is the one who's sick!" Then I realized I'd said too much and made a mistake.

She calmly said, "My mother is gone. You have one, cherish it, and be filial while you can."

She was very opinionated, sometimes even more mature than my mother.

I sighed and said, "That's true, but sometimes, being filial is a hassle. My family has special circumstances; I have to go every day."

She sat barefoot on the bed and slowly kissed my lips.

I didn't say anything more, and she didn't press me. I liked that about her the most.

I couldn't tolerate women who pried too much.

She was only wearing my thin t-shirt, which looked particularly long on her, covering her thighs like a short skirt.

I turned on the heater to warm my hands.

I looked her over.

I warmed my hands, picked up hers, and smelled them—slightly damp, with a fishy smell.

She blushed, avoided my gaze, and looked like she was about to wet herself.

I asked, "What were you doing when I came back?"

She blushed again, lowered her eyes, and said, "I... was..."

I touched her vulva. Her vagina was hot and wet.

I asked, "Lonely?"

She retorted, "Who isn't?"

I roughly rubbed her tender clitoris. She suddenly urinated, but immediately stopped.

I smeared my hands full of urine on her buttocks and looked at her.

She said, "Aren't you going to let me hold it in for you from now on? I've been holding it in ever since you came to me."

I put an old mattress under her buttocks and said, "Good girl. Keep holding it in."

I pulled off her t-shirt and saw a naked mermaid. Her breasts were erect, and her pink nipples were hardening rapidly.

I boldly said to her in an imperative sentence, "Masturbate."

She started rubbing her clitoris and asked me, "Why do you always make me masturbate?"

I said, "It feels really exciting."

She said, "But my dad doesn't seem to like it."

I said, "Maybe he likes it too, so he didn't tell you..."

She was very skilled and quickly increased the speed, biting her lower lip, her knuckles tense and white.

To intensify the verbal stimulation, I said, "Touch your cunt! Touch your dirty cunt hard!"

She masturbated in front of me, like a fleshy flower, blooming, strange, mysterious, sensitive, possessing some kind of supernatural power, unbelievable.

The bud burst open, the clam-like snail expelled mucus, her thighs tensed, her toes flexing and extending like beating insects.

I was extremely excited; she was about to shamelessly contract and spasm under my gaze.

I touched her face and whispered, "Come on, baby, let it out. Pee, be good, pee it all out."

Her whole body hardened, reaching its climax, all her muscles and bones tensing, her breathing becoming labored.

I said in the lowest of my voice, "Look! This shameless little slut is masturbating! She's going to wet the bed!"

She suddenly groaned, her vagina contracting violently as she urinated.

Encouraged by me, she lost control of her bladder, achieving a successful urination orgasm.

The urine gushed out, shooting over the old mattress and landing at the foot of the bed.

She buried her face in the hollow between my face and shoulder, her body convulsing.

I cruelly pressed her bladder, aiding and abetting her, saying, "Look at this little slut! Everyone come and see!"

She gasped for breath, urinating incessantly, throbbing and spasming, recklessly enjoying herself.

Before the afterglow of her orgasm subsided, the slut pulled my hand to her vulva.

I masturbated her, masturbated this slut.

She climbed on top of me, head towards my feet, touching my penis, her bare buttocks facing my face. I touched her cunt and anus.

We adopted the 69 position, masturbating each other.

I played with the opening of her vagina with my fingers.

The urethra was still secreting a sticky fluid, I couldn't tell if it was vaginal discharge or urine. Soon, my fingers became slippery.

I touched her urethra, teasing her.

She touched my anus. I spread her legs for her to touch.

We both hummed dreamlike moans. Hmm...uh...oh...ah...oh...oh...

we both breathed heavily, fiddling with each other's genitals, intoxicated by naked honesty.

She played with me. I played with her. Who was playing whom? I don't know. Let's play each other?

Under the brilliant starry sky, on the vast earth, two pitiful little things comforted each other.

Actually, everyone is pitiful.

We toil and struggle all day, searching and searching, searching for what? To find a partner, someone to practice with, someone to practice offense with. Finally

finding one, we argue, quarrel, break up, separate, and even divorce.

In the blink of an eye, youth is gone, we grow old with the flowing water.

As I played with her genitals, I seemed to see age spots appearing on the back of my hand.

Finding a fellow ball player is fate.

Regardless of others, I cherish it.

She couldn't stay still any longer, she was tired, and lay flat.

I kissed her.

She parted her labia, fiercely revealing her rotten vulva.

Her vulva was truly ugly, looking both tragic and unfortunate.

Perhaps it was related to the weather.

Today I suddenly felt she was abnormal, both psychologically and physiologically! Maybe my opinion will change tomorrow?

I said, "My God, you're so beautiful!"

Suddenly she lifted her buttocks and, without warning, started pooping, soft, unformed feces gurgling from her anus.

A disgusting, shocking beauty!

She was so dirty.

Incredibly dirty.

So frank it broke my heart.

She closed her eyes and groaned, as if enduring inhuman torture from bandits.

She opened her eyes, looked at me, her gaze helpless and sorrowful.

I kissed her nipple.

She asked, "Do you find me disgusting?"

I said, "No. Not disgusting."

She said, "My stomach isn't feeling well."

I rubbed her stomach.

She led my hand between her bare legs and said, "Play with me."

I gently stroked her wet vulva. She sighed with intense pleasure. I sighed along with her sigh.

I caressed her filthy, messy ass, rubbing her anus with the warm, soft excrement she had just passed, until she reached orgasm.

I raised my hand, my hand covered in soft excrement, and excitedly stroked her face.

Her young face was quickly smeared with her own excrement.

The peak of sexual pleasure made her dizzy. She was still lost in the dizziness, letting out a mournful howl from the bottom of her lungs.

After the orgasm, she rolled over, knees and elbows on the bed, swaying her filthy ass at me, and said, "Fuck me... I want you inside!"

I teased her anus with my fingers, bent down and licked her ear, asking, "You want a cock?"

She weakly replied, "Yes... I want a big cock... Big cock in. Fuck me..."

I inserted my fingers into her slippery anus and piston-like fucked her asshole.

She thrust her hips back, eagerly welcoming my fingers that were penetrating her rectum. I whispered in her ear, "You slut! whore! You dirty little cunt!"

She said, "Mmm! Yes... come fuck this little slut... come fuck this stinky thing!"

As I fingered her anus, I said, "I'm going out now, to find some men to bring back."

She excitedly replied, "Why do you want to find some men?"

I said, "I'll have them fuck you, take turns fucking you, fuck you as hard as they can, fuck your stinky cunt to death."

She groaned in a trembling voice, "Mmm... no..." Her body was already steaming, but her reason was still pretending.

I continued, "After they're done, I'll take you out, take you to..."

I hadn't thought of a place yet. Where to take you?

I blurted out, "To the park toilet."

She gasped in surprise, "Ugh!..."

Her own fingers involuntarily rubbed her aroused cunt again.

I continued teasing her, saying, "I'll tie you to the radiator, spread your legs, stick your ass out towards the door, and I'll stand outside collecting money."

She was completely into character, half-crying as she replied, "Ugh...no..."

I said, "People who exercise in the morning will line up to fuck you."

She excitedly hummed, "Ugh...wouldn't that fuck this little stinky thing to death?"

I touched her cunt, then put my wet hand under her nose, forcing her to smell it, and smeared her own secretions on her face.

She smelled her own stench, immersed in the bizarre indulgence and the scenario constructed in her mind.

I said, "You slut, your cunt is soaking wet, all sticky and dripping. You're such a horny bitch."

She gasped for breath, her eyes closed, like a feverish patient: "Mmm! Yes..."

I said, "That's how a bitch in heat is, your stinking cunt keeps dripping with filth, smelling so good that male dogs get hard as soon as they smell it, they mount you, they fuck you hard."

Her moan changed tone: "Ugh... I like... male dogs fucking me hard!"

I sensed she was about to climax again, so I added insult to injury.

I said, "The people in line outside are starting to cut in! Two black men barge in, grab your ass and start fucking you. Another one fucks your cunt."

Her fingers danced rapidly, like a hummingbird flapping its wings.

Her breathing suddenly quickened. My fingers, which were inside her anus, also quickened and increased in pressure.

I said, "You're almost there, almost there, but you're holding back, you can't bear to."

Her toes curled up, and spasms were about to begin!

I said, "Suddenly! Dad came home from work with your homework, pinched your face, looked at your miserable state after being fucked, and coldly said, 'Fuck her to death! Don't feel sorry for her! She's a big slut! She's been begging to be fucked since she was little, she loves being fucked, fuck her to death, fuck her to pieces!'"

She gritted her teeth, her masturbation reaching its peak, her voice a hoarse whisper: "Fuck me to pieces!!"

After shouting the slogan, the reactionaries' gunfire erupted. Everything went black before her eyes. The tide crashed in. The climax arrived with a deafening roar.

I calmly responded; without moving an inch, with a little trickery, she had already reached her third orgasm.

I pulled her up to take a shower.

After the shower, I kissed her and asked, "Is your stomach feeling better?"

She said, "Mmm, much better after I pooped."

I said, "Sit on my cock and fuck yourself."

She squatted on top of me, her buttocks lowered, her hot, wet pussy enveloping my large cock.

I gripped her fleshy buttocks. Her wet pussy began to move on its own.

Pleasure, like a whirlpool, fierce, savage, firmly gripped us both.

We used fucking to fight against despair, our hearts exploding in despair, dazzling like fireworks.

Suddenly, she stopped, her eyes flashing with a glint of light, panting, and grinning wickedly, she said to me, "I have an idea!" (You, dear

readers, will notice that the protagonist in my story doesn't go online, doesn't use a cell phone, and doesn't watch porn.)

That's right. The internet, cell phones, text messages, porn, phone sex, chat rooms—it's been written about enough. It's overused.

Besides, I don't like the despicable plot of drugging and raping women. I just don't like it.

06: Ant Exile

Key hints for this episode: foreign object insertion, gang rape fantasies, public places, anal sex.

If you like it, please continue reading.

If you can't accept it, exit immediately!

No one is forcing you to read.

I'm warning you!

Episode Six begins:

We fight despair with sex, our hearts exploding in despair, dazzling like fireworks.

Suddenly, she stopped, her eyes flashing with light, panting, and grinning wickedly, she said to me, "I have an idea!"

I looked at her, silently approving with my gaze.

The little slut got up and left me, went to the dining table to get something, clutched it in her hand, ran back, and jumped onto the bed.

I looked at her.

She panted excitedly, looking at me with sparkling eyes.

I said, "What is it?"

She held out her bulging fist to me, slowly opening her fingers.

There was a plum in her palm.

We both smiled at the same time.

I asked, "Bought at the supermarket?"

She said, "It didn't cost any money."

Then she gave a wicked grin.

She didn't continue, and I was too lazy to ask.

It was just taking advantage of public resources by finding blind spots in the surveillance cameras.

The shopping mall has already squeezed a lot out of the public; losing a few plums won't bankrupt them.

She lay down, her big eyes blinking as she looked at me.

I looked at the plum; it was bigger than a ping-pong ball, slightly firm, purplish-red, and round and plump.

I got up, lifted her legs, and bent them fiercely until her knees were right next to her ears. I took the

plum and put it at her vulva, dipping it in her vaginal fluid and inserting it.

She said, "Mmm..."

I thrust my penis into her vagina again. We could both feel the round, cool thing inside.

My penis pressed against the plum, the plum against her cervix, pushing her uterus inward.

She said, "Oh! So deep~~ So comfortable~~"

I wanted to fuck that plum to pieces! To fuck this slut to pieces!

I pounded into her like a beast, desperately.

She responded to me, twisting and turning vigorously.

I didn't want to ejaculate again (I'd already been soaked in salad), but I couldn't hold back and came anyway.

After ejaculating, I withdrew my penis, picked out the rotten plum covered in sticky juice, and held it in front of her.

The rotten plum brought out the sour, fishy smell of her vagina and the fishy aroma of my penis, the sticky juice dripping down her eyelids.

She quickly pulled away.

I pressed her head down and shoved the rotten plum into her mouth. She

ate it, using her teeth and tongue to separate the flesh from the pit, swallowing the juice and flesh, and spitting out the pit.

I took the pit and threw it away.

She gazed at me for a long, long time, her eyes filled with unspoken words.

She wanted to get up to wash herself. I didn't let her.

The north wind howled outside. Inside, on the soft bed next to the electric heater, I held her, my face rubbing against hers, my feet against hers.

I said, "Before Liberation, there was a big landlord who would drag one of his maids over every day and pull down her pants."

She asked, "What for?"

I said, "To soak a few big red dates in her pants, and then eat them the next morning."

She asked, "To nourish her body?"

I said, "Yes. He lived to ninety-nine."

She said, "Won't it hurt to put the dates in? The pits are sharp."

I said, "Easy. Your brother has some pitted ones."

I went to the field and boiled three eggs on an induction cooker.

While waiting for the eggs, I found a bag of pitted apricots I had bought before, and stuffed four or five slices into her sticky vagina. After

the eggs were boiled, I took one out, peeled it, and stuffed it into her slippery vagina.

Then I took another one out, peeled it, and stuffed it into her vagina.

Then I took another one out, peeled it, and stuffed it into her vagina.

She whispered, "You bad boy, are you trying to scald/bloat me to death?"

I didn't hear clearly whether she said "scald to death" or "bloat to death."

Whatever!

Everyone dies eventually.

The two of them fell asleep, their legs intertwined. Nothing more was said that night.

In the morning, I opened my eyes to find her nestled beside me, anxiously pleading, "It's so swollen, can you get it out?"

Remembering our game from the night before, I made her get up and squat on the dining table, straining.

As she strained, I kissed her, asking, "How does it feel?"

Her face flushed, and she said, "It's been so swollen all night. It's stretched my whole body."

With each contraction and relaxation, she expelled the breakfast that had been soaking inside her all night onto the plate.

Three hard-boiled eggs came out easily, covered in her fluids and my semen from the previous night, incredibly slippery, sliding off the plate one by one. I quickly covered them with my hand.

The few slices of apricot, however, wouldn't come out no matter how hard I tried.

I reached inside and dug, already feeling them, and started poking and pushing, deliberately frowning in feigned panic.

She asked, "What's wrong?"

I said, "Oh no! Oh no! What happened?"

She asked anxiously, "Can't get out? What are we going to do?"

I said seriously, "Hurry up and get dressed, we need to go to the hospital."

She panicked immediately, "Go to the hospital and let the doctor pry it out? What am I supposed to say?"

I said, "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. Just say my boyfriend is being naughty."

She was still imagining the embarrassing scene under the operating lights, her face genuinely flustered.

I couldn't bear to scare her any further, so I smiled.

She realized I was just teasing her.

I took the dried apricots out and saw they were all soaked white and swollen, covered in our sticky fluids.

She got off the table, sat in a chair, and put on her thermal underwear.

I picked up some breakfast and fed her, which she ate with a grin.

She chewed the sweet, warm breakfast, looked at me, and asked, "What did you just say?"

I was stunned.

I'd said too much!

She prompted me again: "You said I'm your girlfriend?"

My mouth hung open, my eyes blinked, my tongue felt stiff, my mouth went numb, my scalp tingled, and my legs twitched.

I didn't want to admit it.

She said, "Look how scared you are! Just kidding! Who cares about you!"

I felt relieved, suddenly realizing how pathetic I'd been.

I said, "That's not what I meant… I meant to say… I meant to say…"

She comforted me, "Don't worry, I remember our agreement, no more entanglement."

I touched her bare feet. They were cold. I put a sock on her left foot.

She muttered to herself, "I'm nothing to you. And you're nothing to me."

I put a cotton sock on her right foot.

She sighed and said, "One day you'll come back and find I'm gone..."

I asked, "Where are you going?"

She said, "Don't ask. Don't bother me... Treat me well today."

I said okay.

I really don't know where she'll go next.

I don't know when she'll leave me.

What will I do next? I haven't thought about it.

We both live each day as if it were our last.

We both anticipate something bad is about to happen, but neither of us touches the topic. A

beautiful fairy tale with twinkling stars is unfolding, but a rotting curse hangs above it.

Who cast the curse? Who is it cursing? I'm too lazy to figure it out.

She's in exile, and I'm in exile, trembling, meeting each other by chance.

In fact, every couple (including those living together) is just one ant and another ant accidentally crawling under the same roof.

After breakfast, I said I wanted to go to my mother's early today.

She didn't say anything.

My mother hasn't met her match yet.

The big white bottle attached to the catheter is full.

I pulled out the catheter and poured out the yellow urine from the bottle.

The radiator was barely working, feeling like a rabbit that had been dead for an hour—just lukewarm.

I turned on the heater and muttered to myself, "The radiator isn't working at all! What the hell are these bastards doing!"

Mom snorted in agreement.

I gave Mom a bath, gave the dog a bath, made lunch, and then came back.

Back home, I took my little vixen shopping.

She's a slender, elfin woman.

Shopping with her, influenced by her, I felt younger myself.

I bought her a pair of sneakers.

She absolutely refused, dragging me outside, complaining about the price.

I said no, wearing cloth shoes in winter would make you sick.

Finally, I insisted on buying her another pair.

She immediately put them on, happily, and picked up her old cloth shoes to leave.

I said, "Put them in the trash."

She was very surprised: "Why? They're still wearable!"

I said I'd buy her new cloth shoes in the spring, and she called me a spendthrift.

I said my house already had enough bad luck. She finally obeyed and threw away the old shoes.

After leaving the store, she said to me, "Thank you. You're so kind. But I still feel uncomfortable spending your money."

I said, "What is money? Money is worthless. What's the point of earning money? It's to have enough to eat and wear."

After dinner, I took her for a walk in the park.

The park was gloomy and cold, almost deserted, and seemed desolate and decaying.

It was completely dark all around, and the streetlights were low and dim, probably eight out of ten were broken.

We walked side by side, I lit a cigarette, and she took a puff.

She followed my steps with her head down, chatting about some interesting things.

We wandered to a strange building. I could barely recognize a public restroom sign hanging at the entrance and asked her, "Need to use the restroom?"

She said, "Ah, no, I don't."

I looked around carefully and noticed that the guardhouse at the entrance was dark, empty, and locked with a thick chain lock.

I whispered in her ear, "Park, restroom!"

She was confused. "Huh? What's wrong? I don't want to go. Are you going?"

I said, "No, I'm not going. Remember the story I told you the other day?"

She smiled, then immediately became wary, her smile vanishing as she stared at me intently, asking, "You're not serious, are you?"

Without a word, I grabbed her arm and dragged her into the men's restroom.

She struggled and whispered, "Don't do this! What if someone's inside?!"

I didn't answer, forcibly pulling her into the men's restroom.

The men's restroom was fairly clean, with no smell, and dimly lit, with a yellow light bulb that was at most fifteen watts.

The men's restroom was partitioned, with six small stalls.

I pulled her inside, opening each door and checking inside. No one was there.

Her face changed. I could tell she was genuinely nervous; her expression was completely different from the one at the library.

At the very back, next to the radiator, I "ripped" open the nylon zipper of her shirt.

She turned her head, staring at the door, her eyes wide, looking around and then at me.

I unbuckled her belt.

She pointed to a small cubicle and asked me tremblingly, "Shall we go in?"

I said, "No. Do it here!"

Under the yellow light bulb, I took out the handcuffs I always kept and handcuffed her to the radiator pipe.

I pulled her pants down to her ankles, revealing her white buttocks.

I touched her fleshy buttocks and played with her anus.

Nervous and fearful, coupled with the fact that I had pulled down her pants, made her tremble slightly.

I ran my fingers along her vulva and said, "The first person to come in was a plumber..."

Seeing that her reaction wasn't intense, I skipped over it: "The second person to come in was a middle-aged professor."

She got aroused: "Ugh! Professor..."

I said, "This professor especially likes anal sex."

She gasped: "Ugh! Oh!"

I pinched her tender nipples.

"He started inserting his penis into your soft anus. He asked you, 'Do you like having your penis inside you?' You answered—"

I stopped talking, leaving her to "fill in the blank."

She responded, "Mmm...I like it..."

I asked, "The old professor asked you again, 'Does it feel good to have your ass fucked?' You answered—"

She said, "Mmm...It feels good...I like it...Fuck my ass!...Fuck my ass! Fuck me!!"

I unzipped my pants, revealed my raging cock, and thrust it into her ass.

I stood behind her, pulling her hair back so her head was tilted back, her neck fully exposed.

Under the light, the curve of her neck was beautiful, and tiny goosebumps rose on its surface.

I explored with my glans, feeling the walls of her mysterious intestines.

She gasped, whispering, "Oh, you're fucking me so good..."

I felt my erection harden even more.

She hissed, "If you keep doing this, I'm going to come... I'm going to come... Ugh!!!!!"

Her rectum seemed much more sensitive than her vagina, probably because it had been developed earlier.

Thinking about how her father had been with her for a year, touching her every night, and possibly even penetrating her anus, I became even more of a beast.

I resolved to be even more of a beast than her father...

Unable to hold back any longer, just as I was about to ejaculate, I suddenly heard footsteps approaching. Someone's

coming! Damn it

! Why now of all times?!

I quickly stopped thrusting, pulled out my penis, unlocked the handcuffs, and shoved her into the nearest cubicle.

The footsteps grew closer.

We stumbled into a small stall, panting, closed the door, and tried to latch it, only to realize some bastard had taken the latch home!

The door was ajar, impossible to lock. Footsteps approached—the men's restroom.

It was too late to find another stall!

I held her tightly, my fingers gripping the empty latch.

We were both breathless and terrified, listening intently to the footsteps outside.

The footsteps sounded heavy. The man was probably tall and fat.

There were hissing and gurgling sounds mixed in with the movement.

This guy had asthma.

He didn't go into a stall. We could hear him pulling down his belt and trousers.

Good. Time to pee. It won't be long. He'll be gone soon.

We waited and waited, and then the sound of urination began.

The urine gushed onto the ceramic urinal, intermittently, I didn't know if it was prostatitis or just a persistent misdirection.

Finally, it finished, almost done.

Silence.

Absolute silence for a moment. It was

as if all three of us were holding our breath, like we were underwater.

We were holding our breath, afraid to breathe too loudly, but what was he holding back?

Suddenly— *

bú*—the

old man let out a weak fart, the melody twisting and turning, strangely sinister.

She chuckled silently. I quickly covered her mouth.

The breath was quite long, mournful and melodious, like the song "Orchid Flower."

She shrank her neck, silently laughing, her eyes crinkling with laughter, her whole body trembling violently, about to burst into laughter.

Thinking back to school, there wasn't really anything particularly funny in class, but the limited circumstances amplified subtle humor.

That guy finally left.

My penis went completely soft.

Back home, we added wine, relit the lamps, and resumed the feast.

My hard penis rubbed against her anus, tightly, relentlessly.

She rubbed her clitoris, panting, "Mmm, mmm."

I rubbed her intestinal membrane hard with my hard penis.

She was panting, her left hand spreading my buttocks apart, her right hand rubbing her vulva and clitoris wildly with her fingers.

A few drops of semi-clear vaginal fluid dripped down in strands.

I pulled my penis out of her anus, panting, and said to her, "Suck me! You slut! Suck my cock!"

She turned around, turned to face me, and took my dirty penis in her mouth, sucking on it while masturbating.

I grabbed the back of her head, thrusting my hips wildly, pushing hard into her stomach. I felt my penis enter a deeper, wrinkled cavern.

Her chest spasmed, and she began to gag.

My penis was licked clean.

I grabbed her ankles and buried my penis hard into her sticky, hot vulva, churning it with a gurgling sound.

She caressed her breasts, breathing out lewd, hot breath.

I kissed her lips, smelling the stench from her lips, mouth, and breath.

This stench stimulated me even more.

I wriggled even more wildly, like a primitive man, utterly unrestrained.

Just before I ejaculated, I pulled the dark purple steel rod from her hot, wet eyes, let it cool until it was half-soft, and then inserted it into her mouth.

The thought of marrying her flashed through my mind like a sudden inspiration.

That night, I dreamt that we lived on a hilly farm, watching the sunset with our eyes half-closed, our territorial dogs circling around us, rubbing against my legs.

She asked, "Do you have any siblings?"

I said, "No."

She asked, "Are our parents in good health?"

I said, "Yes. They're separated."

She asked, "We've done everything, but you won't marry me, right?"

I said, "Yes. I don't want to marry anyone else."

She asked, "Does that big bad guy want to kiss me?"

I kissed her sun-kissed face...

When I woke up, my heart was soft and trembling, my heart still throbbing weakly, like a bean sprout in heat.

I had never felt so relaxed, so completely in sync, with any woman before.

My ex-wife was shrewish, mean, mercenary, and conservative—the seven deadly sins, I won't go into details.

I wouldn't dare go shopping and talk so openly with my mom, hugging and cuddling like that.

Only this little vixen makes me feel so carefree and liberated.

But she's not local.

That's a bit of a problem.

Besides, I've just escaped from my "walled city" (presumably a metaphor for a previous relationship), I'm battered and bruised, still healing, and I'm really not ready to go back in.

My mom's pregnancy is still bothering me.

I'm so annoyed.

The next day, I went out alone to the pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test.

(I won't mention the brand, or it'll be too much of an advertisement.) I went to see

my mom.

Before I could even take out the test, I saw her signing a document with a pen held between her toes.

I went over, and what I saw made me so angry I was practically fuming!

To be continued...

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